The Labyrinth: The Way Back
by aviry nolane
Summary: Sometimes the way forward is the way back... currently going through a REWRITE and EDIT to chapter 5! Updating Soon!
1. Out of Print

The Labyrinth: The Way Back  
Author: Aviry Nolane,

Date: Nov. 18, 2002. – January 2011  
Notes: That's right. It's an edit and ending project. Almost a decade yes, but I will finish this beast of a fic. For all you readers out there, thank you and enjoy!

Rating: will be about R-ish

Here's hoping!

Disclaimer: Of course they don't belong to me... They're property of Jim Henson and Co…

**- The Labyrinth: The Way Back -**

Chapter One - Out Of Print 

_She could not help but think of him.  
She could fight it no longer.  
But where to begin?  
His eyes? His hair? His disheveled but beautiful appearance? His muscular form? His sensual smile?  
There was so much to take in, so much to discover.  
And they had time to do it all.  
Now and forever, through time itself, they had each other.  
Jareth and Sarah had eternity. _

An earsplitting wail was heard, and the young brunette woman was surprised to find that it had come from her own mouth.

The book soared through the air; its pages twisting and spilling about in a whirlwind of motion. The offensive beast roared, the hard material of its binding thudding against the wall with a resonating clap. It fell quickly to the floor then. Its body once again became a lifeless heap, incapable of hurting, indeed incapable of even moving toward, anyone.

But of course Sarah didn't know this. In fact, in her mind, this now seemingly dormant object was just as much a threat to her safety as the name it bore inside its final pages. She gasped, wide eyed with horror, as her stomach twisted and turned in a disgusting churn.

"Sarah and _who _now?" She spat. Shaking her head, the wide eyed gape of a deer caught in the headlights fell away, to be replaced by an instantaneous surge of venom that only women and vicious snakes truly understood.

Sarah, it seemed, was angry. Quite angry.

She stood, pulling herself fiercely from the tugging hold of her bed.

"No," it seemed to plead, "I'm still warm, Sarah. Warm and cozy, and full of cushions and blankets enough to last you an eternity!"

But of course Sarah did not hear this proclamation, as she didn't speak furneze, the language of the common furniture ornament, and more so - because to her mortal ears the bed was a lifeless chunk of bedroom decoration. As it was, all of the words the bed now threw in Sarah's direction she couldn't hear a single one, except perhaps for 'eternity'.

Indeed, the word was already etched firmly in her mind. All recesses of thought and conscious mind pulled towards the angry red scrawl that baited her thoughts. And even though she herself had no idea, her subconscious was consuming this new turn of events as well. Though perhaps in a different light.

"Sarah and Jareth had eternity."

Eternity.

Sarah stumbled past the bed's embrace as it whimpered its final pleas.

Her legs suddenly grappled with the idea of walking beneath her, very likely also begging her to return to bed.

But Sarah was nothing if not persistent. She pressed on, and soon she had reached the detestable object.

She stood above it, straddling her hands astride her hips and glaring down at it with a terrible sort of rage. The book saw this too, and quivered with fear. After all, it had only done what was asked of it, right? Why should a helpless romance novel suffer for someone else's devious actions?

However, to Sarah, the procession of thought went much differently in her eyes. The book was no innocent contraption; it was a messenger of evil, a conniving intruder disguised as a light read, a maggot of the Underground in harlequin's clothing. She stared on, a glint in her eye, as the thought of the book being tossed into a roaring flame entered her mind.

The book saw the meaning of this glare as well. If it had been blessed with legs and a sense of keen direction, rather than the magical curse of print that had been bestowed upon it, it is possible that it would have run straight behind the form of its awakener.

Sarah fell to her knees beside the book, decidedly still unsure pertaining to its contents. She reached down, her gaze penetrating the thick book jacket of the foe she had only a moment ago began to think of as her enemy.

Suddenly a new emotion struck her, one familiar to her in the recesses of her mind, yet not one used to the newfound regularity of her rather admittedly mundane life.

Fear.

She reached out with a trembling hand to poke at the book as the intense feeling shook her.

_Was __**he **__here? Was he watching? Was he plotting? _

She froze. Of course he was. He was always plotting.

Her eyes narrowed again, alert for the presence in her room that she was sure existed. She turned abruptly, spinning around on her knees to be met by - - her room.

She sighed.

Was that disappointment?

No. No, she decided. That was relief. Relaxation. A release of tension. It was... Rage. She nodded at this. It must be rage. And intense rage at that.

She reached out with her left hand and before she could stop herself, flipped the book over and turned to its last pages.

She had a good mind to...

_Now and forever, through time itself, they had each other. _

Sarah read and reread the line, an expression of confusion knotting up her features. She scanned the page, half expecting to see the abominable line sneak its way back onto the page, calmly typewritten, looking entirely like it belonged there.

'Which', Sarah reminded herself, 'It doesn't.'

But still... Where was it?

She fingered through the pages, turned the book over, and finally, after several tense moments of silent inspection, gave up.

She held the book out distractedly and let it fall to the ground.

If it had been audible to the human ear, the sigh of relief that ensued from the object would have astounded Sarah. But she had already been astounded enough. She sat for a moment quietly contemplating her circumstances. She was not a child any longer, and she would be adult about this if it killed her. 'Preferably if it kills him' she scoffed silently.

A pause.

She shook her head. Thinking like that wasn't going to get her anywhere for the moment, as much as she'd like to indulge herself with the thought that Jareth's interest in her had suddenly perked after 8 years ( but who was counting? ) she had to consider other alternatives.

Had she imagined it?

It seemed the most likely cause of her distress. She nodded to herself. She had been very stressed lately, what with her mother's plans of remarriage, the restaurant opening just a week away, the unexpected proposal from Bill. She sighed, leaning back against the wall. 'Of course. The proposal from Bill.' She nodded again, it was beginning to feel quite worrisome to her that she had to keep physically assuring herself that she wasn't going crazy, and she made a mental note to check herself for any future indication that she continuously nodded to keep her inner meandering comments in check. "Bill," She sighed rolling her head back to rest on the chilly wall. Of course the unexpected proposal had to be the reason for the ... altercation that had just occurred.

After all - if it had been Jar - The cold blooded and evil Goblin King's doing, he would be here by now, gloating, no doubt.

And there was certainly no sign of that was there? No, her room was blessedly Goblin King free.

She smiled. She really felt much better now that she had convinced herself that the world was in fact not out to get her, but rather that she just had an overzealous imagination. She rose, picked up the poor tattered object beside her, and made her way back to bed.

Never mind the question of just exactly why her mind would jump to thinking about Jareth romantically at a moment of severe stress and domestic uncertainty. Never mind the fact that her dreams had finally managed to go relatively Jareth-free for the past few years. Never mind the fact that she had, even if only for a moment, felt his looming presence nearby. Never mind.

For all her good qualities, nobody had ever really thought of Sarah as dazzlingly brilliant. Hers was a most logical and concise decision that positively reeked of human rational, and left a bit of an aftertaste that felt distinctly that of a defense mechanism.

She smiled, content with her ability to rationalize the situation away. She settled back into the wall of pillows which supported her back and sunk her way into the peach colored down comforter. After all the commotion she really hadn't the faintest memory of what she had just read, and reading always helped her to get to sleep. Raising the book back up to her eye level, she read on...

_Damien reached out to her with his words and offered her everything. "Only fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave," pleaded the Goblin King. His heart lay before her, held out to her like a precious jewel. _

The charade was over. There was no way that she was going to be able to rationalize this one away, no matter how she tried, and she knew it. Sarah tossed the book angrily toward the wall, knocking her lamp over with her outburst.

A dangerous feeling rose up inside her as the room went dark, and she bellowed, leaving nothing to the imagination, exactly what she thought of the Goblin King at this moment.

"Jareth!" She screamed.

Suddenly the silence was eerie. She was left to the darkness with nothing but her labored breathing and the clenching of her fists into the comforter around her. She shuddered, a chill overtaking her, and was rewarded with a resounding tap on her left shoulder.

She turned out of reflex before she could think better of it. And there, illuminated with a few bars of evening light that had managed to sneak through her blinds, was the unmistakable form of the loathsome Goblin King.

His pale face was visible only in gaps that seemed to be strategically placed for his benefit. The high cheekbones that sloped down to his haughty chin proudly displayed his arrogant expression. The tightly pursed lips that produced a resonating sneer throughout the room, with just the faintest hint of an impish humor.

Finally Sarah allowed herself to be led where she had first intended not to gaze, back up to his sinister, glinting eyes which reflected more than just the opaque moonlight.

He didn't move for what seemed like hours, and she had begun to wonder if perhaps he was just a part of the decor she had never really paid much attention to before now. She had just about convinced herself of this fact when she took notice of the slight heaving and falling of his chest that signified breathing - which traditionally, the decor took no fancy in.

She gasped, unable to will a single rational thought to rise above the surface of her clouded mind.

Shocked as though she was, she was not about to be left alone and defenseless against the Goblin King in a darkened room in the middle of the night. She scrambled quickly out of her comforter and leaned over to the second lamp by her bedside, not so secretly hoping that if she illuminated her bedroom, the ghost white form of the King would be gone with the shadows like a girlish nightmare.

The light snapped on beneath her fingertips.

She had no such stroke of luck.

If anything, it seemed things had taken a turn for the worst. She was now able to clarify that he was indeed a solid, quite real, non-figment of her imagination. And he was standing rather close to her.

He had remained reclining, poised against the door frame of her bathroom. The halo of glitter that surrounded him transformed her bedroom into an almost otherworldly place, and a nearly regal one at that. At once, he crossed his arms around his chest, his fingers idly toying with the ever present crystal ball.

She didn't move, and breathing seemed almost entirely out of the question. She supposed that this must be what dying felt like, as all resolve to inhale suddenly left her.

He raised a brow in her direction. "You called?"


	2. Page Turner

Notes:

The Labyrinth: The Way Back

Author: Aviry Nolane ()

Date: November 26, 2003 – January 2011

Notes: Chapter 2, all dressed up with somewhere to go!

Standard disclaimer: They're still not mine. Just on loan from the good folks at JH.

**Chapter 2 - Page Turner **

The urge rose over her like a morning sunrise. It flowed through every pore, every muscle, and every crevice of her being. It enveloped her senses fully, pushing her to her very limits. Her eyes shone with the passion that filled her, and her desire pulled her towards his still form.

She wanted to slap him.

She wanted to slap him across the face, _badly._

Unfortunately, though her body practically steamed with her desire to plant a firm blow across his pompous face, she could not, no matter how she tried, muster the power to force her body parts into action.

Decidedly out of other options, she held firmly to her last resort; attempting to burn holes through him with her eyes.

Apparently, he enjoyed this.

Judging by the amused smirk that wound its way around his features, he was quite satisfied with being assaulted with Sarah's best feral glare.

She was shocked. She was appalled. She was confused.

For a moment, she remained so. However, once she had examined the situation further, the confusion evaporated; leaving only the shock and disgust behind.

She followed his gaze, which she had realized was not locked on her own, but somewhere beyond her. Or at least, beyond her face.

She gasped when she saw for herself exactly what The Goblin King had fixed his sights on. His eyes followed the smooth contours of her exposed legs that lay tangled in her silken sheets below her. Not that her night shorts left much to the imagination either, which, she reminded herself, wasn't her fault in the slightest.

She hadn't exactly been expecting company. Certainly not _his_.

She was frozen in place as his eyes traveled up the muscles of her thigh, past her midsection, where she was sure that just enough milky white skin was visible to embarrass her thoroughly, only to be lost in the heaving curve of her breasts. Of course, this is not to say that her breasts were typically bursting at the seams in such an enticing fashion, but she was nearing an apex of emotional tension and found it nearly impossible to fuel her lungs with enough oxygen.

Finished with his rather open appraisal of Sarah's womanly development, Jareth took a slight step forward, leaned against a mahogany bedpost, and raised an eyebrow her way.

"Why so quiet, Sarah? After our last encounter, I thought it would be quite a treat to see you again. Is it possible that you've become such a terrible bore in your old age?"

Sarah's stunned gaze transformed into pure fire and brimstone at this declaration. Sarah was no fair maiden in distress. She had grown up. She had blossomed from vulnerable adolescent to an independent, martial arts trained, mace spray carrying, defensive car key wielding, school of hard knocks, city streets of New York type of girl.

She was not about to be intimidated by some... some... well, ruler of the Underworld or not, he was in her house now, and they we're playing by her rules this time.

"Excuse me, Goblin King, but I fail to see how my behavior, decrepit or otherwise, is any of your concern. In fact", she continued, "I fail to see how your presence here is at all necessary."

His eyes gleamed at this, and she could have sworn he was actually pleased by her astute rebuttal.

She tried another tactic.

"Get out!" She shouted. "There is no room for a Goblin King under my roof!" He inched closer and she fumed on, "And especially not in my bedroom!"

She received a genuine laugh at her efforts at this, and Jareth slid his slender form onto her bedside.

She internally slapped herself. This was not what she needed. She needed him to back away and disintegrate into the walls or something. Then she needed coffee. Good strong coffee. Then she could wake up in the morning and feel secure when she told herself it was all simply a bad dream.

He reached out a gloved hand and she backed away at this sudden closeness. She didn't know exactly why, but she was suddenly a fifteen year old girl again inside, tumbling backwards against the pull of her sheets she moved out of the way of his touch. No amount of coffee in the world was going to make this seem like a vague dream. It was beginning to border on pornographic.

"I don't think so, Goblin King." She spat. She was well aware of the meaning behind the passages in her novel, and that they had undoubtedly come from the mythological being perched on her bed.

"Really Sarah," he snipped, "I would have thought that we were past the formalities now. I am no more the Goblin King to you, than you are a mere innocent child to me."

His hand moved toward her bared shoulders. Her insides screamed for any logical motivation.

Inside, she may have felt the part of the balking adolescent, but outwardly she appeared every inch the seductive temptress Jareth had imagined her to be. His smirk only grew larger as she drew backwards against the creamy folds of her bedding. Her eyes grew wider with the physical proximity he gained, and if nothing else, he was amused by this.

His clever little Sarah, now nothing but a plaything before him.

He internally counted to ten after she made her little retort, and plastered a snide grin across his lips. 'Oh Sarah', he mused, 'You are too predictable.'

He summoned a crystal to his open fingertips before her. He had, of course, been intending to reach for her, but after careful consideration he decided against this, and instead opted for plan B, conjuring. A nice save, if he did say so himself.

She practically laughed out loud, her midnight charade shattered. So it was this again? Is that all? "Let me guess, Goblin King. This is the part where you offer me my dreams on a silver platter, or at least your version of my dreams, and I get the thrill of turning them down?"

His grin faded into a menacing snarl. "No, dear Sarah. This is the part where I make you understand just how alike you and I really are."

With that there was a loud crash, and the world began to fall away around her.


	3. The Calm

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back  
Author: Aviry Nolane ()  
Notes: Edited and reposted up to chapter 3 today! Please comment! This chapter might move a little slowly, but I wanted to put some more background info in – so it's not totally confusing in the later chapters! Thanks again, as always!

Standard disclaimer... blah blah blah, If they're not in the movie - they're mine.

and now...

**Chapter 3 - The Calm **

She squeezed her eyes shut and awaited the blow that was sure to come. Or at the very least, the fall. Her heartbeat wailed furiously in her ears as she waited... waited. And waited.

Finally, she opened her eyes.

Blinking, she looked around at the familiar surroundings.

Her bed. Her lamps, or at least her lamp and the broken remains of the one she had shattered, her walls, her idle picture frames, dressers... Her eyes moved to the place she had first seen him, propped up against the doorway to her bathroom.

Nothing.

She looked back to the bedding around her and gazed warily at the comforter, somewhat paranoid that a crafty mini-Jareth was running about from pillowcase to pillowcase after her. Strangely, she was somewhat surprised when she found no such Lilliputian Goblin King traipsing about in her sheets, snipping at her ankles.

He was gone.

She sighed, her knuckles releasing the thick fabric she had unconsciously gathered around her.

"He's gone," she murmured to herself after a moment. "He's gone."

For some reason this simple statement overjoyed her, and she began repeating it aloud in a sing-songy voice one would usually reserve for the shower. Especially, if they sang as Sarah was known to sing.

Terribly.

This didn't bother her in the least, oddly enough, as she blissfully sang on to the tune of the Star Wars Theme, replacing the lyrics with something to the effect of, "Jareth is gone, oh yes he's gone, he's gone, he's gooone."

She even created a little dance, if you can call it that, which consisted of holding a pillow as a dance partner and shaking it vigorously.

You can't really judge her. The human mind reacts strangely under intense emotional stress.

In fact, it was even quite amusing, if you could find the humor in it. Sarah Williams, hard as nails business operator, fierce competitor, twenty-five year old grown woman...

Unfortunately, the imposing figure in her doorway could find no such traces in the current situation.

He moved into the bedroom as she finished her last rendition of the chorus, the final 'he's gone' falling away from her lips in a dejected moan as her eyes locked with her silent observer.

"He's goo - Ohh" She stammered as he cast a quizzical look in her direction. 'Speaking of things that make no sense at all...' Sarah mused to herself, 'Someone's home early. For the first time. Ever. Tonight.'

She dropped the pillow to her side and smoothed her night clothes with her palms. "Bill," she threw out, "I wasn't exactly expecting you."

"So it would seem." He faltered.

They were frozen for a moment in a rather uncomfortable silence.

He fiddled with his briefcase in the doorway, staring around at the room as if it was his job to do so. She could practically see him typing up an inventory report in his mind's eye as he looked over the room. 'One rug, Persian in design, Maltese import in manufacturing. One dresser, American contemporary. One insane fiancée, 5'6, blue shorts.' It made her want to shake him by the shoulders for no reason at all, maybe just for the sake of impulse.

Instead, she stayed seated. Waiting for him to continue.

After a few moments, the worried, dear in the headlights type look still hadn't left him, and Sarah was beginning to get a bit peeved. 'So I was acting a little... _out of character _, is that a _crime _or something?'

He coughed.

"I didn't know you enjoyed your evenings by yourself so much, Sarah," he offered.

'So that what was bothering him.' Sarah rolled her eyes and laughed out loud. "Oh no Bill," she burst, "I wasn't talking about _you _. I was talking about him, J-"

His eyes lit up, his interest suddenly perking. She froze. "J - J - J -"

In all her training as an actress, Sarah Williams had never botched a line this badly.

But you know what they say about love.

They say lots of things about love; it's very likely they say something that could explain this.

"J -J -Jacon." She finished. "Jacon." She pointed to the television for emphasis. Unfortunately, it was turned off, so it accomplished little good for her case.

"Jacon. He's an interior decorator." This was getting nowhere. "Who owns a gentlemen's club, in Nassau. On, um, Project Runway. He was just voted off… Gone. You know, 'Auf' and all that. Hate him. Oh yes, definitely hate him." He didn't move. "He's gone!" She quipped, smiling.

Internally she laughed, smiling to herself at the idea of presenting her actual situation to him. "Why hello dear, I was just finishing a joyful bout around my bedding with the mythological Goblin King of the Underground. However, I believe he's gone back to his magic castle. Care for some wine?"

She checked back to gauge his reaction.

He didn't look convinced.

In fact, as she sat there smiling to herself, he became a little concerned. Obviously, you can't really blame him. She did look a little crazy.

He pondered for a moment about the whereabouts of a thermometer in Sarah's kitchen, or perhaps just some bags for ice, before being whisked into bed by a now much recovered Sarah.

Fortunately, Sarah possessed other ways to clear his mind.

Thoughts of the Goblin King would just have to wait.

- - -

Tens of pairs of tiny leather booted feet rushed into the hall, nearly overcoming their patron though they only reached his waist. He laughed, the grin that swept through him reaching his chocolate eyes and spilling outward into the halls.

"Oh Goblin King, Goblin King! Come out, come out wherever you are!" He called into the now deserted stone corridors. His voice echoed down the long portico halls to the throne room where Jareth undoubtedly sat, simmering in his own thoughts. He made his way into the room, not bothering to announce himself. "Well I hate to disturb you, your liege, but I regret to inform you that this evening's trip Aboveground was a complete and utter failure." He paused, grinning like a wildcat. If he had been any normal subject of the Underground, he would have been dead by the time the word 'failure' fell from his lips. Fortunately for him, he was nothing of the sort. And he knew it.

Judging by the way the lightning flashed outside the castle walls, the Goblin King was not in a mood to be reckoned with.

The dark colored fae waited, impatiently tapping his foot on a slab of stone.

No word came. The lean form of the Goblin King sat motionless, reclining against the great ledge that swung out over his kingdom. The lightening crashed on.

"Quite the conversationalist this evening, aren't we your royal broodingness?"

The long awaited reaction finally came.

"How incredibly astute of you, Alesander."

The fae winced dramatically, gripping his heart and holding one hand to his tumbling brown locks. "Oh, why Jareth, you have wounded me to the core."

The menacing king turned to face him and carefully stepped off the window ledge.

The ill-fated fae continued on, an outsider would do well to just mutter his last rights now and get it over with. Judging by the sharp look in the king's eye, for this fae there would not be a tomorrow.

And still he continued.

"Really Jareth, I don't think I can go on. Life... Force... Dwindling... Must... Get... Help..."

With a flourish he fell to the floor. Jareth paced the stone floor with a few haughty clicks of his boots and stood above him regally.

A moment passed between the two as the younger, darker haired fae stared up at the imposing king above him. Then something rare happened... The Goblin King smiled. He reached out a hand to the man on his floor and pulled him to his feet, and the fae laughed joyfully as he wiped his dress coat.

"Honestly, Jareth. You haven't called me Alesandor in over three hundred years. I was beginning to forget I was ever called that at all."

The king nodded, the sky outside was already beginning to clear. "Act like a child and I will treat you like one, Alec."

Alec only flashed an amused smile to his elder friend, "Always the teacher, Jareth?"

"Always."

The two locked eyes for a moment, and it almost seemed as though soon one of them would tear down a royal corridor screaming "You're it!" and bursting with laughter. But the moment passed, unused.

Alec's eyes fell and the mood now changed. "I wish I could say that my purpose here tonight were only to tease you."

"I know."

Alec looked up, amazed not for the first time, at the amount of strength that he saw reflected back at him. "There has been other news."

Jareth took a moment before returning to his throne, spreading a leg out over the arm as if he were in someone's basement, preparing for a night of boxing. Of course, he didn't know what either of these things were, 'basements' or 'boxing', so to him, he looked... subdued. And rather bored.

Which of course, he was neither of.

"Go on." He prompted, raising a gloved hand in Alec's direction.

A chair bumped the back of Alec's knees, and he sank into it. "There has been a date set. In one month the council will meet... here." He paused, "To discuss your reappointment as Lord Protector of the Underground."

Jareth sighed. "I had expected as much."

"There's more."

The Goblin King's figure shifted at his words. "More?"

Alec continued quickly, he wasn't going to like this.

"The alliance will want a fully traditional court meeting. Fully. She will have to be here."

Jareth shifted again, seeming uncomfortable to Alec, but he dismissed this last statement with a wave of his hand. "What other news do you have?"

Alec grinned. This was just like him, get things said and get down to work. Jareth was nothing if not blunt and to the point. "Well, it's more of the same with the Tjari and the Maesonites. Political civil war is still being threatened, the Tjari are calling for help. They're saying the Maesonites must know what has happened to King Facor, and they are increasingly doubtful of their intentions along their borders."

Jareth scoffed at this. "Fools."

Alec became serious again. "Jareth, you have to understand how serious this is. The alliance is kept in check only by the consistency of the peace of our realm. The Tjari and the Maesonites are both equal parts of that council. This battle, no matter how foolish, could threaten our entire way of life."

There was no reply.

"If you are not granted another term as Lord Protector..." He stopped. There was something Jareth had to know. "Jareth, the Fellowship have been spotted in Napora. In the capital." Now Jareth looked genuinely confused, which was exactly how Alec felt. "The reports began coming in a fortnight ago, and I thought nothing of them... But now."

"Yes." Jareth sat up at this, "Now that I must be reaffirmed, the door is open to them."

Alec only nodded.

"But why Napora?" Jareth mused to himself. "Napora is leagues away from the Din'I mountain range. If the Fellowship was truly interested in the mountain range, why would they be gathering so far away from it?"

Alec only shook his head. The presence of the Fellowship in his own lands was disturbing him more than he let on. Their proximity to the Goblin city was even more alarming, but Alec knew better than to mention such a thing aloud.

The Fellowship was much more than a troupe of ruffians or scavengers; they were a merciless band of thieves and murderers who had plagued the Underground for all of written time. Hundreds of thousands of years later, and still the nomads ravaged on. They asserted, as marauders often do, that their ancient lands had been stolen by the fae of the Underground, and they would not rest until they were returned.

Of course, this was unlikely, even in a land of mythological marvels; it was especially unlikely given the fact that Jareth's own father had executed their leader over 5,000 years ago.

Jareth shook his head and grinned. "Perhaps they're vacationing?" With this he rose and strode to the door, holding an arm out to his friend. Alec shook his arm in the traditional fae style and then pulled a very surprised Goblin King into an embrace, laughing.

"Don't stay away too long now. Nelly and I are expecting your presence soon. And perhaps that of a guest at the Havait Naiantal ball." He winked, "That is, if she doesn't kill you first."

With that he vanished, leaving Jareth alone with his thoughts of tomorrow.

And what a day tomorrow would be.


	4. A Visitor, At This Hour?

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back

Author: Aviry Nolane ()

Notes: Updated Ch 4 is done! Hopefully I'll get through all the old chapters this week and start working on some new ones for the weekend. In the meantime, it's just helpful to get back in the groove – so to speak. Please r&r if you're enjoying the work so far!

Disclaimer: No, they aren't mine - and Sarah is being such an idiot I wouldn't want her. In fact, that goes both ways - they're both being infinitely stupid and I wouldn't take then at all for the next chapter or two. If you see a character and are confused because you really don't remember them being in the movie, then they most likely belong to me.

Ladies and Gentlemen: without further ado I bring you. Chapter 4.

**Chapter 4 - A Visitor At This Hour?**

When Sarah woke the next morning he was already gone. Gone. But that didn't exactly make her feel like dancing. It made her grumpy.

There was no one to cook breakfast for her.

She sighed, being engaged to a world renowned chef was one thing, having him home to cook for you was quite obviously another.

The sunlight that shone through her blinds and into her eyes made her think twice about attempting to sleep longer. Crawling out of bed she searched blindly around the room for her sweatshirt.

Some things never change, despite how mature one might feel or appear to be.

Sarah was never a morning person.

Ultimately, after several tense moments of inaction, she discovered her fluffy maroon shirt hanging dejectedly on her doorknob. She pulled it on in one swift motion and gathered her hair into a decidedly dated scrunchy from her bedside table.

She stretched and groaned along with the protest of her strained muscles as she made her way to the kitchen nook of her tiny apartment, the aquamarine carpeting that covered the floors warming her cold feet. She gazed around the room in a glassy eyed stare as she walked to the nook. Her presence was distinctly felt here, and that was more than she could say for anywhere else she had ever lived. She had painted, upholstered, detailed and hand-picked everything in the room. She stopped for a moment to admire it in her half-sleeping daze.

There had always been someone else, Dad or Karen or a roommate, to pick and choose what her home looked like. Now that she lived alone she enjoyed the fact that her apartment was truly a reflection of her, from the light blue walls to the cozy Room and Board decor, the eclectic apartment truly fit her. She enjoyed the feeling of safety her padded apartment gave her, from the bold throws flung haphazardly about the room, to the variable mountains of brightly patterned pillows she had collected throughout the years. After years of feeling unsteady in this world, she had managed to create a warm cocoon for herself to crawl into after a long day of work. She rarely went out, and when she did, there was a slight pang of apprehension that stung her. A night at the theater, a trip out of town, even a night spent at Bill's, all left her win an anxious desire to return to the safety of her nest.

She moved on into the kitchen area and nodded along with her inner monologue. 'Ah, home. Tiny for anywhere else maybe, but immaculately spacious for New York' she reminded herself. 'Almost like a castle.' She chuckled to herself as she pulled a box of pop tarts from her cabinet.

'Ha. A castle. Hm, blue frosting? Mmm. Castle.' She giggled groggily at a mental image of herself making a breakfast of pop-tarts and boxed orange juice in Elizabethan dress. She swept her sweatshirt around her and held the pop tarts like an orb about her as she bowed regally to Sviddy, who watched her without interest from the tiled counter.

Sarah was very tired.

She grinned, "Oh Svidrigailov, you are certainly the most sovereign and stately of any Russian gray I have ever come in contact with." Sarah bobbed her head and began speaking in a very dated, and let's face it, just plain bad - English accent. "I knight thee, Sir. Didymus."

She gasped, and the box of breakfast pastries fell to the ground with a thud.

Where had that come from? She took a moment to appraise the situation. Yes, yes indeed.

_What the hell was she doing?_

Well, whatever it was it was over now. She was not in the mood to tackle the bundle of nervous tension which had somehow led her down a path of late night hallucination only hours before. She would deal with her manic delusions after her morning coffee, if she was going to do so at all. Over the years since her first… episode of neurosis, she had found that complete and utter denial was the most effective tool at her disposal.

'Sarah, Sarah,' she chirped privately as she stirred her coffee, 'You are obviously in need of a break. Childhood fantasies, regardless of how, well, adult they may seem, have no place in your world anymore.'

She bent down, the coffee spoon still dangling from her mouth, to pick up the box of discarded breakfast treats. When she looked up from her sugar gathering position she was met with an indisputable reminder of those _childish_ fantasies she had sworn to suppress.

"Why greetings, my fair lady! I was wondering when you would have occasion to call me into your service once again."

Her mind reeled. He wasn't here. He was a figment of her imagination. Just like last night. He was a dust bunny. The Goblin King was a shadow. Didymus hadn't just greeted her. The Goblin King did not stare her up and try to kidnap her last night. She was blowing this whole thing out of proportion. Her hands flew to her temples as she tried to maintain her balance.

"I am calm. I am relaxed. I am perfectly sane. There is no talking fox in my kitchen. There is no Underground. And there is certainly no Goblin - Oooh." She stopped short.

She was sure not going to make that mistake again. Even though he didn't exist. She nodded_. Especially_ because he didn't exist. She was not going to go around chanting his name like some deranged Shirpa just to make a point. No, no - she was confident enough with her stability that she did not have to go to such lengths.

There was certainly nothing in her kitchen. She had nothing to fear. She opened her eyes.

Nothing.

He was. Gone.

Now didn't that sound familiar.

Unfortunately, she didn't have time to make up a new song and dance routine, for at the moment she was reassuring herself of her sound judgment, it seemed Sviddy had gone out of his little kitty mind.

She turned to the small living area in search of her feline companion. "Sviddy" she cooed, "Sviddykins."

_Sviddykins?_ Sviddy he could stand, but _Sviddykins_? For goodness sake, couldn't she see he had a breaking point? He was an individual, a living being, with emotions and feelings. And he was feeling a strong emotion toward the notion of subjecting himself to the name 'Sviddykins'. He mewed to himself.

He knew what he had to do.

This woman had to be taught a lesson.

He pawed the couch fibers beneath him as she bent over to search beneath a table. If he had the ability to cackle, he would have done so, spitefully.

Amateur.

He readied himself for the jump, and -

An ear-piercing shriek filled the air around Sarah.

She turned with alarm, her mind all at once flashing through various episodes of Rescue 911 which involved kittens stuck in heating vents or magazine racks.

What she saw, especially after such an exemplary job of stratifying her sanity, nearly made her fall to the floor in defeat.

"Back away, fair lady!" screamed the airborne fox. A shocked Russian Grey stared out at her from his makeshift prison; a Meijer bag. "I have apprehended the mongrel! You have nothing to fear!" He landed and poked the bag with his 'sword', which looked suspiciously like a large cocktail stirrer.

'Leave it to Jareth to-"

- Oh well now. This certainly raised an interesting question.

Or rather, dissolved a vastly significant defense barrier.

If Didymus was real, And he was here, _now._

A certain bedazzled king of the Underground was not as much whimsy or imagination as she would have liked.

Which meant that a very real, very imposing, very tangible Goblin King had been in her bed last night.

Despite her efforts to rationalize, the dreamer in her won out.

She blushed.

Well not _in her bed_ of course, but certainly on it and -

An unexpected gagging sensation ripped at her abdomen. Was she having idle schoolgirl thoughts about the evil, amoral, and painfully overdressed Goblin King of the Underground?

Most certainly not.

"Sarah, get a grip," she berated herself. She rolled her eyes at her absurdity and turned toward the bright yellow tile floor of her pint-size kitchen. She would get coffee. She would deal with this later. She would be fine.

If she had been given appropriate time to adjust, a bit of quiet meditation, a little space to breathe, and possibly a mug of hot chocolate and a bin of yoga tapes, she probably would have been right. Sarah was a very resilient girl, and it is quite likely that had circumstances been ideal she could have managed to pass off even this entire morning as a hallucination.

It's too bad that there wasn't nearly enough of any of these saving graces at her disposal.

The gentle displaced mewing of Sviddy had been replaced by full out shrieking hisses.

She was now suddenly aware of the fact that the impromptu prison bag now had quite a few deep slashes down its side. Didymus was doing his best to help the situation, and so naturally he was worsening the circumstances terribly with his persistent 'my-fair-lady-ing' and "vicious scoundrel" this and "ghastly cretin" that. Plus, the way he was jabbing at Sviddy would just not do.

She had to stop this.

Raising herself from her crouched position on the floor, she leapt toward the bag. Gripping it up with a swift hand before Didymus had chance to object, she ran to the study at the front of her home.

She yanked the double doors and tossed the cat, bag and all, onto the top of her desk. She was well aware of the fact that a foolhardy, knee-high fox was hot on her trail.

Judging by the ruckus of 'art thous' and 'wilt thous' that hemmed her in from behind; he was definitely getting closer.

She shut the doors to the study just as he approached her.

"Why Lady Sarah!" he admonished, "While I will admit that I have never in all my travels encountered a fair maiden as brave and chivalrous as yourself, I would ask that your ladyship does permit my guardianship, as it is my foresworn duty as a knight to -"

His last few words were cut off by the strangling grip of Sarah's arms.

He was quite out of breath and visibly shaken when she finally let him free. Sarah had tried to help the warm smile from spreading across her face, but almost instantaneously, her resolve to rationalize him from existence fell away and was replaced by a warm glow.

After all, Didymus was the short, light and fuzzy type. Jareth had nothing on him.

"Oh Didymus," she sighed, "Whatever would I do without you?"

It was then that she caught sight of the small digital clock over Didymus's furry shoulder.

8:45.

She had fifteen minutes, and she was still embracing a beloved friend and/or figment of her imagination on her living room floor.

Didymus yelped as Sarah tossed him across the room and on to the over-stuffed couch. Rubbing his head with his paws, he righted himself so that his hind legs were again under him.

_Womenfolk._


	5. The Underground At 9am

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back

Author: Aviry Nolane

Contact:

Date: 1/25/2011

Notes: shorter chapter, but hopefully a fun one! There is a lot more to come, but stay tuned because the action starts now! Please r&r if you love me

**Chapter 5 - The Underground at 9am**

Twenty minutes later Sarah Williams the polished executive tossed a bulky handbag onto her desk in the restaurant office. Now calmly sipping a cup of black coffee that had been thrust at her by a merciful assistant, Sarah took a deep breath.

Someone was getting a raise.

She nodded silently as the entertainment manager reviewed the days schedule and idly chattered on about how well things were going.

Sarah continued the bobble-head routine until the woman presumably got bored enough to leave.

It was then that she pulled the cramped form of her childhood aberration out of her purse and placed him on her desk.

"No luck, Didymus?"

The small animal shook his head sadly. "No, fair Lady Sarah, try as I might I cannot will myself back to the Underground."

She let a moment pass for the irony of the situation to sink in, and dejectedly sank her head to the cool wood of the desk. He had tried several times to return home in the seat of her Mercedes. There was not even a slight indication that anything he had tried had even almost worked.

She tapped her pencil against the rim of her coffee cup and desperately tried to conjure a solution. The truth was; her day was getting a tad out of control. Sarah was no longer proficient in the ways of intra-world time-space-or-whatever travel, and she was becoming less and less proficient in getting through an hour without some absurd optical illusion bursting into her trusty white-bread life.

She stopped commiserating long enough to ponder why the room had gotten so silent.

When she looked up, what she saw terrified her.

Didymus lay on his side, his diminutive body convulsing sporadically as his form flickered in and out of view. She reached for a paw, but found that her hands passed right through him.

He groaned audibly, hands outstretched to her, though she could not hold them. Tears filled her eyes as she stood watching, powerless to help.

"My… Lady…"

He had given up.

Terrified, Sarah did the only thing she could think of to save him.

"Jareth!"


	6. Dangers Untold

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back Author: Aviry Nolane Date: Dec 1, 2002. Notes: I know, another two parter.. I'm sorry.. I'm sorry!  
  
Thanks again to all who r&r! When I steal Jareth away I'll make sure you can all come over every once in a while and pet him or something. As for Sarah. she belongs to the highest bidder. If I have to hear one more thing about how this chapter makes her look fat.  
  
Disclaimer: disregard everything I said about character theft above. laa laa laa .  
  
** twiddles thumbs**  
  
Shebang! I give you Chapter 5!  
  
( please don't feed the characters. )  
  
b Chapter 5a - Dangers Untold /b  
  
Of course he had been watching her for some time.  
  
He had been watching, waiting, hunting, for the exact moment to set his plan into action.  
  
It was beginning to turn into a nice healthy obsession for him.  
  
How sweet.  
  
He had watched Didymus's struggle to return home all morning with a strange fascination. Nothing like this had ever happened before to his knowledge, certainly not in his lifetime.  
  
Time after time in the automobile, in the elevator pull, in the hall, he had watched as Didymus tried to part the veil between the two worlds to return home, and failed every time. It was not until Didymus started to fade into nonexistance that Jareth was truly worried. Had she not called him at that exact moment, he would have gone anyway. He had already conjured the crystal and was preparing to leave when she muttered his name in anguish.  
  
Perhaps there would be a rather substantial upside to this after all.  
  
In the same second that he arrived he transported Didymus back to his castle through the veil opening.  
  
As soon as he had done so he knew that the boisterous fox would be fine. His link to the creatures of the Underground was so great that when properly focused he had only to know their whereabouts to read their emotive responses.  
  
Not that he really cared for such nonsense. He was the Goblin King for all sake. He had enough to worry about running a kingdom without having to feel the pain and strife of a random fiery who was greatly perturbed by losing its favorite silver crown piece.  
  
Nonetheless, when Didymus woke up the next morning in the healer's ward of the castle, Jareth had already made sure that there would be a bouquet of Trumpetberry blossoms and a medal of valor by his bedside. Jareth was very nearly delighted by the elderly knight's suspicious ailment.  
  
The Goblin King loved playing the hero.  
  
How delightfully ironic.  
  
But maybe the gift basket was a bit premature.  
  
Sarah screamed the second Jareth appeared, trying her best to muffle the sound through her coat sleeves lest some passerby have a chivalrous inkling. She was scared, she wasn't stupid.  
  
It almost didn't make sense to her that she had called him.  
  
It made even less sense that he had appeared.  
  
What was beginning to slowly make more sense was a spiteful plot contrived by the corrupt Goblin King to steal either Toby or herself back to the Underground for some devious purpose yet unknown to her. What had he done to Didymus?  
  
A tormented look filled her eyes. What if he had come to do the same to her? What if he had already done the same to Toby?  
  
He moved towards her.  
  
A very bad move indeed. In fact it was probably the worst move he could have made with that vindictive smile plastered across his face.  
  
In a game of chess, the move Jareth had just made would be akin to sacrificing the king.  
  
As he stepped forward Sarah groped for anything below her desk that could be of use to her.  
  
His second step drew him only closer. Perhaps he didn't mean to look so threatening, certainly he didn't want to alarm her to the point he had, but he was still Jareth, and he was as pompous as he had always been.  
  
Call it a character flaw.  
  
He took another step closer.  
  
Sarah panicked.  
  
A fourth.  
  
She found what she had been looking for.  
  
He reached out to her with a feral scowl.  
  
Being in the restaurant industry had its advantages. Even in the back office there were still plenty of pots and pans laying about waiting to be unpacked.  
  
His next step and Sarah caught him off guard as he reached abruptly for her.  
  
She brought the weighty frying pan down on him as if her life depended on it. To her frazzled mind, it did depend on it, and she wasted no amount of strength she possessed to make it known to him.  
  
It seems, in moments of terror and shock that several things happen all at once.  
  
In fact, it may not be this way at all. Events may occur several minutes apart and yet the overwrought mind will string them as one fluid, continuous motion to alleviate stress.  
  
For Sarah it seemed as if the exact moment the hit Jareth, Mark entered, catching him as he fell. The phone began to ring somewhere in the haze of her mind, her coffee mug shattered, the pan fell to the floor, and the world ended. All in one fell swoop of her arm.  
  
Mark stared at her questioningly as he held the unconscious form in his arms. She shook her head, somewhat at a loss for words, and beckoned Mark to follow her into her study.  
  
Once they reached her destination Mark lay the Goblin King down on her leather sofa, his eyes not being able to help but focus on the stranger's unusual appearance.  
  
"Sarah," he began, the suspicion brewing in his emerald gaze, "I don't know if-"  
  
She silenced him with a wave of her hand and pointed to the door.  
  
She needed time to think. Men. Couldn't they even give her that?  
  
He grinned. Sarah was a odd one. "Sure Sarah, what are friends for?" He flashed her an amused smile again as he strode towards the door.  
  
"Mark." She stated flatly, "wait."  
  
He turned and gripped the fifty that she held out by her fingertips and winked at her. They exchanged a brief smirk of understanding between the two of them before he left, whistling.  
  
She hoped whatever she had given him had been enough to ensure Bill wouldn't find out about her visitor. She hadn't even looked.  
  
The door clicked shut behind her and she made her way to the couch where the still form of the Goblin King lay unmoving. She checked his pulse, and finding it strong, she settled back into a neighboring chair to watch him sleep.  
  
One thing was for sure.  
  
She was going to need more coffee. 


	7. Misconstrued

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back Author: Aviry Nolane - slvrluna47@aol.com Date: Dec 1, 2002. Notes: yes, yes, this is probably it for the weekend, maybe a few days. I've been on a roll! This should hold you, the story is finally getting to the point I want it!! It's going to be long, I warn you, so beware of chapter length.  
  
b Chapter 5b - Misconstrued /b  
  
It had been a long morning.  
  
Sarah had taken her fill of fretting over the Goblin King like some prudent nursemaid when all he seemed to do was silently mock her, even in his sleep.  
  
'how can he look so damn condescending if he's unconscious?' Sarah spat inside her head.  
  
The wound she had left on his head hadn't healed from what she could see and if anything it only looked to be becoming worse.  
  
Sarah only remembered it as a slight scrape when Mark had lain him down, and now by all accounts it was a savage ripping of the skin that extended past his hairline.  
  
Admittedly, Sarah was rather surprised to see that he bled red blood, or that he bled at all really.  
  
But despite her concern over his condition, she was quite done with being a silent observer in all this. She had wrapped his wound the best she knew how and tried to make him comfortable by throwing any blanket like object she owned over his sleeping form, including her jacket and sweater. The greater part of her morning had been spent pacing anxiously around her office space and tapping her pencil against nearby objects.  
  
Yes, she had done all she could, now all that she had to do was wait.  
  
However, as the door was practically being beaten down by her associates, she had no choice but to get back to work.  
  
She was going to have to leave his side sometime.  
  
Deciding to check his pulse a final time before she left, she sank down to her knees beside him. Using a feather light sweeping of her fingertips, she brushed some stray fine blond strands of hair away from his temples and smoothed them aside.  
  
Concern washed over her face for what was not the first time that morning.  
  
She let out a belated sigh after a moment and let her hand drift down the scope of his jaw line, proving to herself that he was real.  
  
His skin was warm beneath her touch and again she found herself surprised. It wasn't that she had expected him to be carved out of marble or anything, it was just that the fearsome Goblin King was turning out to be more human than she had ever thought him to be.  
  
She took a moment to let this thought settle. She couldn't remember his skin being so warm when she had dressed his wound earlier. What if he was developing a fever? But that thought seemed unlikely, he wasn't overly heated, in fact - his temperature was beginning to seem rather healthy.  
  
He was almost.I mortal. /I  
  
She nearly slapped herself. "Oh Sarah," she mused to herself, "You stupid girl."  
  
All at once her smile faded as the brow of the Goblin King arched and knotted in a pained expression. He raised his hand and massaged his forehead lightly with a gloved hand.  
  
There was a sudden stillness to the room as a rigid Sarah awaited his first words.  
  
One almost wonders what she would have done if he had never said anything. Odds are that she would still be sitting there, stiff as a board, waiting for some confirmation.  
  
Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, she didn't wait long.  
  
"What an odd coincidence Sarah. That's just what I was thinking."  
  
His eyes flashed open at this and Sarah was frozen by a mixture of horror and confusion. His hand moved across his face and gripped hers in a violent clasp. She gasped, alarmed.  
  
Dear God, had she still been touching him?  
  
Her eyes locked with his as his gloved grip burned white hot flames down her arm. She winced, trying to pull away, but found herself locked to his intense gaze by some power she found it impossible to fight. He was horrifying.  
  
"Don't," he seethed, "touch me."  
  
She could have been the next body warming the couch if he hadn't done what he did next, and by all appearances he knew it.  
  
He blinked, looked away, and dropped her arm as an afterthought.  
  
Suddenly, she stood and moved away with an agility that she hadn't known she possessed a moment ago.  
  
The room was silent again, and Sarah gaped wide-eyed for a pencil to tap on something.  
  
"Ah Sarah," voiced Jareth as he sat up from the makeshift bedding. "Reunions, reunions." He raised an eyebrow at her as he pushed the blanketed coverings away from him. "They seem to go so very well for us."  
  
She let out a brief gibe at this and kept her further answer to herself.  
  
"I'm glad you agree."  
  
She said nothing and Jareth tried to summon a crystal, to no avail. He stared at his empty hand for a moment, eyes revealing nothing, and finally looked back up to Sarah's staunch form.  
  
"Oh Sarah, you fool."  
  
She stomped over to where he sat in an angry haze and glowered down at him. "Me? Me?! Please Jareth, explain to me how I am the fool here. Why you conniving, no good, lower than -"  
  
His look made her objections fade to dormancy.  
  
"What did you strike me with Sarah?"  
  
She stayed silent, lips pursed and arms crossed defiantly.  
  
"Dear Lady," he continued in a mocking tone, "I'd love to answer the question myself without trying your patience, but I really hadn't time to see it coming. If you'll remember."  
  
He waited, the brat had to chip in some time.  
  
"A frying pan." She admitted, feeling rather foolish.  
  
"And what I material /I was it composed of, precious?" he baited after her.  
  
"Oh, I don't know Jareth. Some metal? Iron?"  
  
He raised an eyebrow.  
  
Realization hit her.  
  
"Oh, Jareth I didn't even think."  
  
He rose from the couch and towered over her. "No, you didn't." He spat, glaring icily down at her. They stood there for a moment, gathering their thoughts - and all at once Jareth remembered his purpose there today. His purpose which thanks to Sir Didymus, Sarah knew nothing about.  
  
Perhaps the gift basket wasn't premature at all.  
  
His icy sneer melted away into a well-calculated smile as he gauged Sarah's reaction.  
  
"No real harm done I suppose. I'll have a hearty bruise for awhile I'll wager, but I'm sure it's nothing we can't handle while I'm here."  
  
She gaped, voiceless.  
  
What? Where was the defiant Goblin King whose only joy as far as she knew was found in foiling her every turn, who was seemingly deeply dependant on her discomfort. If she didn't known better, she'd say he was being amiable.  
  
Of course his entire statement hadn't yet hit her. Sarah was still stuck on the "No real harm" part of his remark.  
  
But she did know better, as most do when it comes to the seemingly "good turns" of the Goblin King's favor.  
  
What had he just said? "we?. while I'm."  
  
"While you're where now?" She ensued.  
  
He seemed prepared for this question. Too prepared, as if he had planned it.  
  
Which, of course, he was.  
  
This frightened her.  
  
As, of course, it should have.  
  
"While I'm here. With you."  
  
She could only stare for a moment. "I'm sorry?"  
  
He waved his hand dismissingly. "You should be, but I am prepared to forgive you."  
  
"Excuse me?" She retorted.  
  
"Hush Sarah, I'm trying to talk to you." He caught the look in her eye.  
  
No, this was not going well. He was going to need that gift basket back if this went on much longer.  
  
And he was sure it would.  
  
She fumed, but stayed silent, and so he continued. "When you did - what you did, the iron made contact with my bloodstream momentarily." He paused here to glare at her with unbridled anger. He may be trying to win her over, yes, but he wasn't about to let her walk all over him, or continue to beat him over the head with kitchenry. "Iron is deadly to fae." He snapped again.  
  
It occurred to her that he kept pausing after every point he made as if she were a mindless child or should be scribing down notes.  
  
"And I, Sarah, am fae."  
  
He glowered at her, pausing again. 'Okay Jareth,' she snipped to herself, 'I get it.'  
  
"So, while you didn't manage to kill me-"  
  
All this labored pausing was beginning to piss her off. She had started to loose sigh of what he was saying and instead focused on his angry sentence breaks.  
  
"- you have made me. impaired."  
  
He fell down on the leather cushions behind him at this, back still held erect. "It is a three day cycle."  
  
Had she missed something?  
  
"Did I miss something here, Jareth? What exactly is a three day cycle?"  
  
He leapt to his feet and she was startled enough to lean backwards as he stomped towards her, fury gnawing at the edges of his purposeful actions. He detested her for making him say the word.  
  
But so be it.  
  
"I am. mortal."  
  
  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
ohhh. stimulating, eh? What do you think?? 


	8. Necessary Deceptions

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back Author: aviry nolane, slvrluna47@aol.com Notes: none so much, I'm frantically working to get the next few chapters together!  
  
This chapter is dedicated to LadySorrow and Solea for absolutely no good reason! Just because I think they're great  
  
Thanks guys!  
  
Disclaimer: nope, still not mine. Sarah seems to have too many claiming ownership and I wouldn't want to get in the way of that. As for Jareth - I'll wait for him to return home, thanks.  
  
b The Labyrinth: The Way Back  
  
Chapter 6 - Necessary Deceptions /b  
  
  
  
Jareth wanted to go home desperately.  
  
His first several hours of mortality were not going well at all.  
  
He had walked for what seemed like years to reach the automobile after Sarah made some excuse to leave her building. They had traveled down stairwells, up ramps, past doorways, through halls - it was all incredibly boring to him. He didn't understand why they couldn't have just picked one of the many vehicles they had passed by on the way to her auto. They all looked alike to him anyway, and there was much less walking this way. But no, she had insisted.  
  
And then there was the clothing. She had dressed him in a few of Bill's garments, who he had taken to calling "dear Bill" to rattle her, and they seemed to scream 'vagrant wanderer' to him. But he would oblige, for the sake of his cause he could do with a few days dressed like a common bard.  
  
And then there was Sarah.  
  
To say that she was grossly irritated by the situation would be putting it lightly.  
  
He watched her now, as she slammed cabinet doors and jerked open drawers in her vibrant kitchen. He didn't wish to try her patience any more than he needed to for her to comply, and so he reclined on her white lounger awaiting her next entrance.  
  
She entered a few minutes later carrying two plates of steaming food. She placed one of the place settings in front of Jareth as she pulled a chair up to the table they now shared.  
  
"I'm really not that skilled in the kitchen." She broke in coldly. She didn't like this arrangement, but without conversation of some sort she was sure she'd be lost.  
  
When he didn't answer she looked over at him to find him calmly eating the chicken and pasta dish she had thrown together in the kitchen moments earlier.  
  
She watched silently for a moment and had only just decided that she had been being rude and should look away when their eyes met.  
  
He smiled at her, an amused smile playing on his face. "Yes?"  
  
She shook her head and returned to dinner. It really was remarkable, seeing the Goblin King dressed down in a pair of Dockers and a polo shirt. It was almost funny, the way he seemed to just comply willingly with every part of mortal life she thrust at him. He was aggravated, yes she knew that, but he kept quiet about it. She nearly admired it. Smirking, she chuckled to herself at the presence of the new improved Underground sorcerer, the model house guest.  
  
They finished their dinner without any further words or disturbances between them, and Sarah was almost letting her guard down, thinking that perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to have him here after all.  
  
If he behaved himself.  
  
  
  
^ ^ ^ ^  
  
Jareth scowled.  
  
He had no intention of behaving himself much longer. The trained poodle act was getting old quickly.  
  
He sighed and lay back on the couch where Sarah had made his bed for the evening. He was going to have to tell her soon. Yes, sooner or later in the next two days he was going to have to break the news to her that she would indeed be returning with him. He hadn't quite decided how he felt about that yet. On one hand, he was delighted that he would finally have the power over her he had fought for. On the other, he was curious about her reaction to the news.  
  
Would she be afraid? Curious? Despairing?  
  
He laughed to himself as his dimming sight fell upon the aquarium in the corner of Sarah's living space. He already knew the answer, 'she will be furious.'  
  
^ ^ ^ ^  
  
The night passed quickly and sunlight woke the Goblin King from his slumber even before he knew he was asleep. He turned against the blankets and fought his way out of the bedding, his repulsive plaid nightwear fighting him every step of the way.  
  
Rising he made his way around the room, taking in all the aspects visible to him of Sarah's home.  
  
He took his time perusing the picture frames that hung on the wall. There were some of the young boy he knew to be Toby engaging in boyish activity, baseball, hockey, a birthday party. Others were framed shots of Sarah and a few friends, he glanced causally over the others in the shot, confident that none of them held a candle to her. The smile that Sarah thrust toward the camera in each of the pictures was one of calm, nearly serene intellect. There was joy in her eyes, and her head was held high, as if she knew her place in the world and was proud of all that she had surrounded herself with.  
  
It occurred to him, as he caught sight of the final photograph near the bottom, just how beautiful Sarah was. She stood on the stage, her mother's arm draped around her, with a throng of people surrounding the two of them. It was in this picture that a deep glow seemed to emanate from Sarah.  
  
He had always known it was there, as would any passing man or fae on the street, but the physical beauty he could overlook. There was no denying Sarah was an attractive woman and so it was rather a non-issue to him. He had known hoards of beautiful women in his time. He had known of Sarah's tangible beauty when she was still but a child those long years ago.  
  
No, it was not just the physical beauty that he noticed in this moment, it was the compassion that seemed to spill from the very core of her being. It was the fact that he was sure none of these people looked half so joyous when they were out of her sight. It was the fact that she was a strong and ardent woman that filled him with a sense of undeterable need.  
  
A deep regret passed though him in this instant, for having been turned down so defiantly eight years ago.  
  
He shook his head and drew himself away from the wall. He didn't have to worry about that now.  
  
The fact was, these were dangerous thoughts. These were dangerous assumptions, and it was better that he amuse himself with something else in the room than get caught up in thoughts of Sarah while she lay only in the next room.  
  
He made his way past the few odds and ends of Sarah's apartment, the glass bottom table, the black and white butterfly collage on the wall nearest the door, the shelf of glass figurines from her childhood.  
  
He had spied a glass figure of a very familiar dancing girl in the back of the shelf and turned away smiling.  
  
He soon came to be seated by the edge of the table, staring into the depths of the small blue box. The small aquarium in the corner enthralled him. There were fish of all colors and sizes that swam through the bubbling waters of Sarah's mini ocean here, and he watched them carry on about their daily business as he observed. After a moment he reached out a hand to touch the cool glass and marveled at the way the creatures fled to their hiding places. Where they hid was even more of a delightful surprise. Jareth's face lit up at the miniature ceramic statue that lay at the bottom of Sarah's oasis.  
  
He laughed aloud and the few fish that had dared return fled again to their hiding spaces.  
  
A familiar looking statuette of an imposing king stared back at him, standing atop a winding green valley that at once reminded him of his labyrinth.  
  
'Well Sarah,' he contemplated, 'maybe this won't be so hard after all.'  
  
With that he stood and strode around the room. There was nothing more to amuse himself with here, he had poked through her cabinets, toyed with her trinkets, learned of her barely concealed deepest secrets from the bottom of a tank of water. He was ready for something else.  
  
He wandered into her bathroom for a moment, twirling knobs and reading peculiar brand names and product instructions as he waited for Sarah to leave her room. A barely audible click announced Sarah's awakening and he practically jumped with satisfaction.  
  
Huffing boorishly he wandered into the back of Sarah's hall toward the door to her chambers. Despite his basic instinct he stopped at her door and knocked.  
  
There was no answer.  
  
Surely she was awake by now? He had just heard her, after all.  
  
Perhaps he could just peep in and make sure she was alright? Of course he could.  
  
Satisfied with his human rational he pushed the door open.  
  
Confusion graced his features as he stared at a very sleeping Sarah tangled in her bed sheets. He passed the sound he heard earlier as being from the despicable creature Sarah called "Sviddy" who had been confined to the study early last evening lest Jareth get the sudden urge to toss it out the window.  
  
He turned to leave the slumbering woman behind and was nearly to the door when he heard it.  
  
"Jareth?"  
  
He turned around, hoping against hope that perhaps she had mumbled "Carrot" in some sort of half dreaming state. Or perhaps "Jacon" the horrid mixture of his name and some oily breakfast foodery she had cooked up the night before.  
  
Not as such, he discovered.  
  
He smiled at her in nearly an apologetic fashion as he neared her bed.  
  
"I thought you were up," he said stoically, "I was just leaving." He turned to go.  
  
"Jareth," she voiced again, the sleep still holding in her vocal chords, "come here."  
  
He raised an eyebrow at this, but he didn't have to be told twice. He approached the side of her bed silently. Nothing could have prepared him for what happened next.  
  
She moved over, and motioned him to get into bed with her.  
  
He moved toward her, body numbing, and climbed into the warm bedding alongside her.  
  
He took a moment to appraise the situation. A bleary eyed Sarah dressed in nothing but a black tank top and creamy silken trousers was staring at him with a most peculiar expression of worry. She pulled a tie from her hair and let her long brown hair tumble graciously down her shoulders and into tiny half ringlets that spilled onto her back. Yes, she was breathtakingly beautiful.  
  
She inched closer, making Jareth incredibly conscious of their proximity. He remained expressionless, thankful for the warmth of the comforter piled about his waist.  
  
He had thought it terribly funny at the time he had first spied her bedroom décor, all of it being done in peaches and greens - as he had imagined it would be. It brought a smile to his face even now, the irony of her choice in decoration.  
  
Before he could continue to deter his thoughts down another path and away from the possibly still dreaming Sarah beside him, she moved, drawing herself to face him and bringing her practically sybaritic face mere inches from his.  
  
Oh dear. Was she sitting in his lap?  
  
It would appear so.  
  
He swallowed.  
  
She reached up to the bandages that still covered his injury and pulled at them gently.  
  
He exhaled, the loudness of his breath drawing even Sarah's attention.  
  
She smiled, the minx.  
  
"I just want to check and make sure this doesn't look any worse. It was getting pretty bad yesterday."  
  
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. At this point he was sure that whatever he said, it was likely to be some offhand comment about how infinitely stupid she was, or an impassioned word or two as he pushed her down onto the mattress to make mad love to her.  
  
She tied his hair back in the holder that had only a moment ago swept her hair back as well, then she continued.  
  
He winced as her fingertips stroked the skin where the iron had touched him. She caught this, of course. She drew closer, she was now nearly straddling him, leaning over him to get a better view of his injury, leaving him with his face nearly buried in the hair that fell about her chest.  
  
He decided that perhaps it was best to stop breathing all together, instead of the choppy bursts of air he was now allowing himself. Her even breath fell upon his face in light rushes that made him want to make good on his latter impression of exactly what he felt like doing to her right now.  
  
Her nimble fingertips pressed against the top of the wound, bringing him to a ringing crescendo of pain.  
  
He let forth a guttural moan and grabbed her hand away, breathing hard now with his efforts to control himself. "Don't" He rasped. He was now eye to eye with her and her gaze was thick with concern.  
  
He couldn't bring himself to let her hand go, and he wasn't sure if it was because he didn't trust her, or because he wanted her.  
  
He didn't really have time to consider it.  
  
"Sarah?!"  
  
Her eyes grew wide with the implications of that voice. Jareth remained stoic, any traces of pain he may have carried falling away.  
  
She turned around, her body still resting without doubt on top of the lithe form of the Goblin King.  
  
"Bill."  
  
Ah, the click he had heard earlier. Obviously.  
  
Jareth smiled. "Hello Bill."  
  
What a delight.  
  
Sarah struggled to explain the situation away.  
  
"Bill, hi. I wasn't expecting you so early."  
  
By the look on the man's face before him, Jareth judged that he believed that to be exactly the case. While Sarah prattled on, Jareth took the time to size up the man before him. She had long since moved from her station atop him, and now he had ample thinking room inside his head. Bill had adequate height to surpass Sarah, though not more than five foot ten or so, and had an olive tone to his skin. His eyes were dark, and carried a look of gentle forgiveness under the worry that lined them. His hair was a light shade of chocolate brown and complimented his features well.  
  
Jareth scowled. He was as unlike this man as it was possible to be.  
  
Bill smiled. It seemed the situation had been cleared up and Jareth was now George, from Nevada, an old friend from school. He smiled at her ingenuity.  
  
George it was.  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
* ( avi ) * 


	9. Replacements

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back  
Author: Aviry Nolane, slvrluna47@aol.com  
Date: Dec. 2, 2002   
Notes:   
  
I know, i'm sure i could have done more with the Jareth = mortal situation, but i didn't want to risk getting *too* detailed, i still have a lot left to the story and that really wasn't the main focus. Thanks to all who enjoyed that little twist of fate and encouraged it!! :)   
  
  
b The Labyrinth: The Way Back  
  
Chapter 7 - Replacements /b  
  
  
  
Sarah straightened her dress. The last few hours of Jareth's visit had been taxing to say the least.   
  
The day before Bill had insisted on taking the two of them out to lunch, as it had been after two when she had woken up. Been woken up. By Jareth.   
  
Lunch had been difficult. Bill was already wary of Jareth - George's presence in her house, no less in her bed that morning. But after explaining to her fiancé that George was an old friend from Yale who had dropped in at the restaurant to see her and I accidentally /I been knocked out in the kitchen by a falling pan... things became easier. Then his being in her bed had been easy enough to explain away, as she more or less told the truth. Though she had left out a few details, such as Jareth's labored breathing for example...   
  
She grinned at further thought of that little detail.   
  
When she had further explained that his wallet had been stolen and she invited him to stay with her, things had looked rocky, but after the admission that George was happily married with two children, he had caved.   
  
The three of them had gone out to lunch at Mozart's, a small deli just around the corner. It seemed an easy enough plan. Go to lunch, appear mortal, act mortal, return to the apartment. But Jareth had apparently not been satisfied with the simple plan. He had taken every opportunity to nearly blow their cover, chatting with Bill about Neologism through the ages and various art periods. He had even begun discussing Quantum Physics and his utter disbelief of the theorem before Sarah had to excuse them to the payphone. George really had to call his wife.  
  
It was his youngest son's birthday.   
  
Jareth was disgusted by the idea of his ready made family waiting at home, and so to spite her upon their return his behavior was only worse. He took every possible chance to flirt openly with Sarah, winking at her with reckless abandon and passionately stroking her hand over the table. He had even gone so far as to offer her a massage.   
  
Bill had nearly passed out with shock.   
  
Sarah shook her head. She should have known better after all.   
  
But she supposed that no harm was really done. Jareth's antics had subsided as soon as Bill had bid them farewell and headed back to the office.   
  
Jareth had been quite amicable since then though his lewd undertones hadn't completely subsided. He still let the occasional comment about the perks about being the Queen of the Underground slip, such as never having to fill your own saltshakers, though she was sure he meant it only in jest.   
  
The day had passed quickly. Only one more day, a few hours, and Jareth would be leaving. She couldn't say that she was going to miss his overbearing presence once he was gone, but she was sure that at least some part of her would feel at a loss when it was time for him to go. The curious dreamer in her that still wanted to believe that places such as the Underground, namely. Until he had come, that part of her had nearly been gone forever. Secretly, she was almost thankful for that.   
  
She brushed her hair back once more and stepped back to view the woman in the mirror. She actually looked good tonight, she admitted. She wasn't usually one for vanity, but she had worn her favorite evening dress for tonight's dinner. It was a silken rust colored gown that reflected light when she turned in it. Her neckline was steep, coming to a triangular point at the lower edge of her breastbone. It hugged her every curve, and the folds of her dress hung loose at the end, which flowed to the floor. She wore extra high rusty red heels to keep the dress from dragging and small black diamond earrings with it. Both of which had been a gift from her mother.   
  
She made a mental note to herself to call her mother when she returned from dinner tonight. Her wedding to John Paulman, a well known serial actor, was only weeks away and she still hadn't called to find out the details. They hadn't always been so close, their bond only strengthening when her father had died of cancer a few years earlier. Now she was grateful for the relationship they shared, weather it was rocky at times or not and felt a deep regret that she hadn't phoned in over a week. But that would have to wait, she reminded herself, tonight was about her.   
  
Finally she smoothed the red crystalline necklace down under her fingertips and adjusted the thin golden chain that held it there. Tossing her curled hair over her shoulder she grabbed her purse and walked out into the living room.   
  
Bill was already waiting, standing with a bouquet of flowers and smiling rather apologetically at her.   
  
'Apologetically? What?' Sarah pondered. "Bill. What's-"   
  
He cut her off with a burst of energy, "Sorry Sarah, I really can't make it tonight. I know I promised but something's come up that just can't wait."  
  
She didn't move. That usually wasn't a good sign.   
  
"Really Sarah, I have to get these new chefs trained in time for the opening. There's only two days left and we still have a lot to cover. I've arranged a get together at Hotel Martin to get them together. I just can't get out of this." He smiled. It was going to take a lot more than that to get out of this.   
  
Sarah was fuming. She nearly broke out into tears at the mere mention of the next idea.   
  
"I've talked to George, and he said he'd be okay with taking you out to dinner in my place tonight. If that's okay."   
  
She really must not have been thinking straight, but the last three hours of primping had prepared her for a night out and nothing else. Blame it on the hairspray, it has a way of effecting the female mind in a most adverse fashion.  
  
"You'd go?" She blurted out, turning to view Jareth's reclining figure draped carelessly over the white recliner.   
  
He grinned out of the corner of his mouth. "Delighted."   
  
And with that it was settled. Sarah embarked on her date with the Goblin King.   
  
  
^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^   
  
  
Sarah felt enormously foolish as they entered the restaurant. She could practically feel the stares of everyone inside locking onto her.   
  
Jareth felt it too, by the way that he was staring back at all of them. Sarah almost laughed out loud.   
'So now he feels at home, does he?'   
  
The attendant led them to their table and Sarah felt herself biting back a mixture of tears and giggles. Bill had reserved the most romantic table, nestled in the very back of the low-lit lavish restaurant. A low canopy of bronze velvet dipped over the seating area, a sheltered booth for two. The flames of the candles threw enigmatic shadows over the entire area and cast blazing beams of reflecting light onto the dinnerware.   
  
Jareth motioned for her to sit down first and held out and arm for her coat. She obliged, put off by his returning royal demeanor. He slid in next to her and pressed up against Sarah in a most persuasive manner. Not that it could be helped, Sarah noted, the booth was rather small.   
  
'And with good reason', Sarah's inner voice prompted. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Why on earth had she subjected herself to this?   
  
When she opened her eyes the wineglasses had been filled and Jareth was ignoring her to her left, instead concentrating on the menu.   
  
She looked toward him with a questioning gaze and he held her menu out to her, not even turning his head from his consideration of the carte du jour.  
  
Sarah took it from him gratefully and tried her best to interpret the French before her, but her mind kept floating back to one detail in particular.   
  
Her wineglass looked huge.   
  
She tired not to think about it and settled for simply pointing to something on the menu. When she turned back to Jareth he was admiring the trails of light that spun from his now half emptied glass.   
  
They ordered when the waiter came by and then remained sitting quietly side by side.   
  
She took this moment to study him closely as she hadn't before. The last two days she had spent the majority of her time with him rationalizing his existence and avoiding his prolonged company. As far as she was concerned, she rather liked him as George, the long lost friend. Who was married.   
  
She watched him without hesitation for a moment, aware that this was likely the last time she would be able to do so. He looked much like he did when she had first faced him, eight years ago. When she had beaten him at his own game. He was still just as slender as he was when she had first met him, yet he had a strong muscular tone that she noticed only now that she was pressed so firmly against him. The unruly halo of gossamer golden strands still framed his face in the same enticing way that they had when she was only fifteen and his mortal enemy.   
  
'Enticing? Did I just say enticing?' She paused, and then decided to continue on with the mental compliment, 'well, I suppose he is moderately enticing. If that,'  
  
The shadows played across his face, casting a mysterious and dangerous glow across his inhuman features. Even as a mortal there was still something undoubtedly magical about him.   
  
Sarah found her gaze transfixed to his with a mere tilt of his head. He stared at her for a moment in much the same way she supposed she had been looking at him, as if he were drinking her in, in place of the wine.   
  
There was something different about his eyes, she decided, but she couldn't quite place it.   
  
She remained still, pondering over the past and the present. And over Jareth.   
  
He looked ravishingly beautiful in the candlelight, she admitted to herself.   
  
He perceived the momentary flash in her eyes and she knew she was caught.   
  
"Sarah," he whispered, raising a brow in her direction.   
  
She wasn't quite sure what her reaction was.   
  
But she didn't object.   
  
And with that he was upon her, pressing his lips to hers with a soft sort of urgency. He probed her mouth with his tongue, enticing her senses to near exhaustion, and she kissed back with a serene intensity that could have frightened her if she let it. His free hand snaked behind her head and brushed against her hairline.   
  
She shivered at his touch suddenly, and he pulled away, content to again stare into the murky depths of his wine.   
  
Their closeness was over in an instant, though to Sarah it had lasted much longer.   
  
She had just kissed Jareth, the Goblin King, her former adversary turned friendly houseguest. Her head was swimming.   
  
This was different.   
  
A silent alarm went off in her head.   
  
There was something she needed to know.   
  
"Jareth," she began.   
  
"George," he grinned back to her.   
  
She couldn't help but laugh at the ease with which he spoke the false identity, fully encompassing the role playing of the last few days. "Have you met my wife?" he asked lightly, seemingly perplexed. "I believe you two would get along fabulously," a feral smile spread across his face, making him appear truly menacing in the dim lighting, "you remind me of her a great deal."   
  
She laughed at his retort and rubbed her shoulder against his as an appeasement.   
  
"George," she began again, "There's something I have to know."   
  
"Anything, my Queen." He reclined back into the booth and poised a hand in the air, reaching for the wine glass he had left behind on the table.  
  
His grasp never reached it.   
  
"If I had lost, eight years ago, what would you have done?"   
  
He froze, taking a moment to think of a response that wouldn't completely give him away. Any response would do.   
  
"I would have turned your brother into a goblin."   
  
"And what about me?"   
  
She was taking this rather well, or so he thought.   
  
He couldn't see her eyes.   
  
"I would have kept you Sarah, just as I said."   
  
Now he saw the result of his words, or rather felt it, as she reached over and grabbed him by the sleeve. She bored holes deep into his eyes with her own, their intimate moment completely forgotten.   
  
He found himself resorting to his old icy glare. He ripped her hand away from Bill's suit jacket.   
  
"I never lied to you Sarah. I told you exactly what would happen to you at the start of the game. I told you what I would do."  
  
"Is that supposed to sound honorable?" whispered Sarah, a raspy edge to her voice.   
  
He couldn't help what he said next. He was tired, he was miserable, home was only hours away, and she was putting him on the defensive. He threw what he had at her without thinking.   
  
"I bent the rules for you Sarah, even after you won. I went easy on you because I felt something for you I had never felt before and I was curious about it. I let you have the run of the labyrinth and I let you live out your greatest fantasy through me. And then," he paused both for effect and to calm his rapidly fraying nerves, "I let you go."   
  
"You let me go?" Sarah practically lost all control at those four words. "You let me go?"   
  
He nodded.   
  
"No Jareth, I beat you. I beat the evil Goblin King at his own game and came home to tell the tale. I won my freedom."   
  
Jareth shook his head.   
  
'Evil' he scoffed silently.  
  
She really didn't understand. Well then, so much for being elusive, he was going to have to spell it out for her.   
  
"No Sarah." He met her gaze, and lightly laid his gloved hand upon hers. "In my Labyrinth there is nothing to be won. Do you understand? Nothing. No one has ever beaten it because I am ruthless, as is my land. You were above average in handling it, and that made me even more enamoured with you, but it did not get you all the way through my maze. The wall falling away before the cleaners got you, Hoggle being in the oubliette, your friends finding you in the junkyard," he took a moment here, "when you left the ballroom."   
  
She was not convinced, "I left the ballroom because I wanted to leave the ballroom, Jareth."   
  
"No." He tapped her fingers lightly and she stared down at their hands rather than into his eyes as he continued. "There is no will in my Labyrinth. There is no winning. Most people I send home halfway through the maze and wipe clean their memories of it. When you threw the chair, I shattered the mirror."   
  
He saw the anger sweep away from her, she was beginning to believe him.   
  
A question rose in her mind.   
  
"Then why did you let me go on? Why did you ever let me reach the castle?"   
  
When he answered he did so with complete honesty, and it even took him by surprise that he did so. "I stopped helping you along after awhile, I let you have full run of your actions soon after the ball. I wanted to see how far you'd make it." He stopped speaking for a moment, though Sarah knew he wasn't quite finished. "Sarah," he pulled her chin over to meet his gaze with his free hand. "You weren't supposed to refuse my offer." Her eyes filled with glistening anger and fear, along with something she couldn't place. He pleaded with her then, showing her a side of himself she had never seen, "You weren't supposed to refuse I me /I."   
  
Heaven help her, she understood.   
  
He dropped her chin and she averted her eyes, though she didn't pull her hand from his.   
  
They sat in silence for a moment.   
  
She was shocked when he was the first to speak.   
  
"Sarah, there's more."   
  
She turned to him, the thought that there was nothing more for him to clarify written clearly across her face, "Jareth, I-"  
  
"I broke the law when I sent you home Sarah." He interjected. "Not my own law you understand, but the High Fae Court law, the Seelie Court law, the law of the kingdoms. You were never supposed to return home. Toby could be overlooked, of course, as he was just a child, and generally their memories fade away soon after they leave and they never think of the Underground again." If she looked terrified at the mention of her brother, it was nothing compared to what he was about to throw at her.   
  
"But you, Sarah... when magic touches a person, it leaves their mark. The moment you left the Underground you took a piece of its magic with you, a piece of me." He avoided her for the rest of his statement, and closed his eyes as he continued. "There is group of nobles known as the thirteen corners alliance, I am a member of this alliance, as are all the other rulers of the land. I am much more than a childhood fantasy that frightens little children Sarah." He stopped for a moment, preparing to tell her everything as he had planned, "I am Lord Protector of the entire Underground. As Lord Protector I am one of the highest ranking officials of the realm. I won't bore you with the details of my job, but I will let you in on one of the qualifications.  
  
I have never been beaten Sarah.   
  
I had never been beaten, that is, until you. Until I let my guard down and let you return to the Aboveground against the laws of the entire realm. Eight years ago my strength was tested and I failed. As a result, the alliance has called a review of my status as Lord Protector, which I could very well loose."  
  
He could hear her raspy breathing burning in his ears, "I can not loose that status, Sarah."  
  
He turned his gaze back to her. He almost pitied her as she stared up at him, her face aglow with the candlelight. Almost.   
  
"I'm sorry Jareth, but what does that have to do with me now? I can't exactly unbeat you."   
  
He tightened his fist and lowered his gaze.   
  
"Nothing Sarah," he lied, "Nothing at all."   
  
The pair sat in silence until dinner had ended and returned to the apartment.   
  
Jareth grumbled to himself as he twisted in his sheets later in the evening. The charade was over.   
  
It was time to play the game once again.   
  
- - - - - - - - - -   
  
* avi 


	10. Homecoming

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back  
Author: Aviry Nolane, slvrluna47@aol.com  
Notes: this one's rather long, sorry about that - I had to get a bit of basic underground history nailed in somewhere :)   
  
  
Chapter 8 - Homecoming  
  
  
It was a long night for the Goblin King.   
  
He lay awake the whole of it, lying silent in the tangle of cotton bedding that twisted around his form.   
  
His night was filled with idle thoughts, most of them circling around the state of affairs back in the Underground.   
  
The news of the Fellowship gatherings in Napora did not sit well with him.   
  
The band of disreputable creatures; men, elf, and fae alike had existed since the time of his father's rule. In Elvin lore, it was rumored that they had come together in an effort to stop the splitting of the seven realms into the thirteen-kingdom alliance. They had fought the Seelie council and those who followed suite with potent dark magic that are now only remembered in the songs of traveling bards.   
  
Perhaps it was best that way.   
  
They had firmly contested the splitting of the Dv'nari kingdom, as he recalled, especially that of the Din'l mountain range. If his memory was correct, it was not surprising that the Fellowship would rise up at this time, as the Tjari and the Maesonites were fighting over the same range of mountain that the Fellowship had fought so hard to ensure into the hands of the Haan Elvin.  
  
And he supposed their efforts weren't all in vain, as it was because of their efforts that the three kings were established.  
  
The Three Kings of Arwen had been empowered by the Seelie courts to oversee all records and bookkeeping of the times of the Underground, especially that of the Din'l mountain range, as it seemed to hold some special importance at the time, to ensure that there would never be confusion as to whom the surrounding lands belonged and to transcribe the histories of the complete people. The three kings, Tahavron of the Tjari council, Goriath of the Maesonites, and Facor of the Haan Elvin were known as both the peace and secret keepers of the land.   
  
Now it seemed as though they were diverging against all they had embodied by fighting over the lands they protected.   
  
In the last few months, several disturbing events had turned the tides of courtly gossip to the south in the stead of the Seelie court. Bits and pieces of the rumors had made their way to Jareth's borders and what he had heard troubled him.   
  
One such fragment of information that had reached him was that King Facor, leader of the Haan Elvin and one of the Three Kings of Arwen, had gone missing.   
  
Kings and respected political figures did not just go missing in the Underground.   
  
Jareth turned in his makeshift bed uncomfortably.   
  
Thanks to the disappearance of King Facor, the Tjari and Maesonites were laying blame on each other's shoulders, the peaceful semblance of the three kings falling away into disrepair.   
  
Political civil war was rising around him as Tahavron and Goraith bickered over the ownership of the Din'l mountains now that the Haan Elvin could no longer safeguard them.   
  
He briefly pondered what could be so worth protection in the mountains that would collapse a colossal branch of courtly political functioning, but then remembered the key function of the Din'l mountains.   
  
Natural iron deposits were found there.   
  
He passed this off as the reasoning behind all the panic and turned his thoughts to matters closer to home, as he couldn't begin to care less who finally gained control of the iron, the guard would be the same.   
  
What presently disturbed him was the presence of the Fellowship so near his own kingdom.   
  
They were not particularly known for their decency in the Underground, and after the settlement of the thirteen-kingdom alliance they had roamed the realm pillaging and ravaging the kingdoms and their inhabitants they traveled through for nearly two hundred years, before their leader had been assassinated.   
  
At the hands of Jareth's own father.   
  
This thought shook him, he knew what the implications of the Fellowship's presence so near his borders was meant to say. It was a direct threat on his authority over his father's kingdom.  
  
He drew his hands through his untamed hair and shrugged the thought away. He was a long way from home, not that being there would do him much good, he would first have to secure his place as Lord Protector of the Underground and then inform the thirteen corners of his situation.  
  
It would do him no good to worry ahead of himself. Right now he needed to concentrate on retaining his position, and that meant that he had considerable thinking of a different kind to do.   
  
Thinking of Sarah.   
  
He chuckled to himself in remembrance of earlier that same evening, when Sarah had been so inclined to fight him on everything that he said. She certainly hadn't lost a fraction of her fighting spirit since he had last faced her.   
  
He wasn't sure whether the thought pleased or dismayed him.   
  
He smiled all the same, remembering the brief feel of her mouth on his.  
  
His Sarah wasn't going to be happy.   
  
He checked the digital clock that hung from her wall.   
  
7:45.   
  
He was tired of waiting.   
  
It was time to take Sarah home.   
  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -   
  
  
Sarah yawned and murmured quietly to herself.   
  
Why was she so dizzy?  
  
She lolled her head around drowsily. Why on earth was everything spinning? And rather high... and as long as she was on the subject, where the hell were her blankets.   
  
Something was just not right here.   
  
She reached out a hand to steady herself and made contact with... what was that? A ledge of some sort? Her nightstand? Funny, she didn't remember her bedside table being so soft... or warm.   
  
Her eyes opened with an uncertain grogginess. Was she dreaming?   
  
What she awoke to was enough to make her scream.  
  
And she did scream after a moment, after the initial shock of waking up in the Goblin King's arms had subsided.  
  
He smiled down at her as his arms fastened around her, tighter than they had been before. Whether it was because he was about to drop her or he was worried she would soon make a break for it, his expression gave nothing away.   
  
"Jareth!" She demanded, confusion of the moment falling away to be replaced by outrage, "put me down."  
  
He gave no indication he had heard her, and instead seemed to focus on something just behind her left ear. She turned to see what it was that had him so engrossed.  
  
There, an inch from her nose, was the proof of Jareth's newly returned Goblin King status.   
  
A bright crystal. A bright crystal that began to glow with an ethereal white radiance that engulfed her.   
  
Her eyes grew wide. "Oh no..."   
  
She scrambled just a little too late to get away from him.   
  
The world spun away from her in an instant, her only continuance of the moment being the ringing echo of Jareth's laughter around her. 


	11. Oh, The Implications of It All

  
Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back  
Author: Aviry Nolane, slvrluna47@aol.com  
Notes: Ok, SO - here's the newest installment, dedicated to Molly Priest :)   
  
please r&r, as it wins you brownie points and dedications!   
( and as always, thanks be to my muse, Solea! )   
*avi   
  
  
**Chapter 9 - Oh, The Implications of It All.**   
  
Sarah was groggy, she was confused, shaken, and out of bed long before a time that she would consider sensible on a Saturday.  
  
Her head was buzzing with hundreds of half formed and unsettling thoughts. They whirred and spun through her mind at the rate of roughly ten million per second, so that she hardly even knew her own name, nevermind grasping more complex concepts, such as exactly where the hell she was or what she was doing there.   
  
It had gotten to the point that she really only knew one thing for sure.  
  
She was going to kill him.   
  
Her body grew rigid with this new and strikingly clear thought. She was going to kill him, slowly.   
  
She was halfway through plotting some of the rather amusing fine points when the more complex details of her situation did occur to her, such as 'exactly where the hell she was', as she had so eloquently put it a moment earlier.   
  
She looked up with a start to find a fairly puzzled Goblin King staring down at her.   
  
"Is something funny, Sarah?" He probed with a smirk.   
  
There was no thought in what she did next. It was a somewhat primal reaction to her situation that took a hold of her and there was certainly no stopping in it.  
  
She was nearly as surprised as he was when her hand slapped the side of his face, though not all together disappointed in her subconscious decision.   
  
To Sarah's dismay, Jareth had a few primal reactions of his own to dish out.   
  
She cried out in a mixture of shock and pain when her bottom made contact with the stone floor below.   
  
"Really Sarah," Jareth snarled from somewhere above, "you ought to learn to control that violent temper of yours. Soon." The last word was a low growl, and she found it difficult not to tremble at the tone of his voice.   
  
But she managed.   
  
As she could only make eye contact with his waist or below from her vantage point on the floor, she settled on staring down his boots.   
  
"Pardon my imprudence, Goblin King, but you really aren't one to give advice."   
  
Jareth sneered. _ 'Goblin King' _? So they were back to that again were they? Fine then.   
  
"By all means, Sarah" he spat down at her, "make this as difficult as possible. You seem to enjoy it ever so much more that way."   
  
Was that growl coming from below him? He stepped away for the sake of caution.   
  
"I don't know what that is supposed to mean Jareth, and I really don't care." She threw these pointed words at him as she drew herself into a standing position before him and straightened her nightshirt with an enraged jerking motion.  
  
All things considered, what with the look in Sarah's eyes that screamed murder, the way that she was quickly advancing toward him, and her thoughts from earlier that centered around the slow assassination of the sorcerer before her, the sorcerer who had just recently regained the capacity for mind reading - one would think that Jareth would be running away in fear. Or at the very least, cowering behind his throne.   
  
There was certainly no rational explanation for his reaction to her infuriated ramblings.   
  
Sarah was seething. Was he laughing at her?   
  
'He's ___ laughing _ at me?' Sarah's inner voice screamed, 'He thinks this is ___ funny _ ?"   
Part of her wanted to cry, the other part somehow managed to lust after his blood even more.   
  
"Send me home, Jareth." She commanded.   
  
He didn't move. She wasn't really expecting him to.  
  
Instead, he leaned back casually onto his throne, clearly awaiting the end of her fit. He draped a leg idly over one of the protruding arms of the high backed chair and stared at Sarah with indifference, as if her outrage was the most natural thing in the world.   
  
She snapped her hands atop her hips and glared at him. Goblin King or no Goblin King she was no one's prisoner.   
  
"I didn't wish myself away. You have no legal right to keep me here." Her eyes narrowed as she approached the throne menacingly. "Send me home." She threatened slowly.   
  
Jareth took his time, letting her anger settle around him. He let his eyes roam around the throne room for a moment, his gaze tracing over the cracks in the stone floor, the soft sheen of the velvet panels, the soft flicker of the torches that lit the walls, not truly absorbing any of it.  
  
His stare moved coolly back to her, portraying no emotion, giving away none of the empathy or concern he may have felt for her.   
  
He answered calmly, and he thought, without any room for further argument.   
  
"No."  
  
She seemed to boil under his scrutiny.   
  
She took a step closer and was now only inches away from his unwavering form.  
  
"You don't have any power over me, Goblin King. You never did and never will. Take me home." Her voice was icy and was laced with barbed loathing.  
  
She didn't blink, didn't move, didn't shift. And neither did he.   
The air around them grew stale with empty anticipation and thick with unspoken words.   
  
He had endured just about enough of her antics.   
  
"Sarah, there are so many things wrong with that statement that I don't have time to explain it to you. Let this suffice for now," he raised an eyebrow at her, and she got the feeling that he was enjoying mocking her with some basic knowledge that she didn't understand. "You are home. I have every right to keep you here, legal and otherwise, Sarah." He paused, raising a crystal before him leisurely.   
  
"I wished you away."   
  
Her mouth fell. She knew it was trite and that it only happened in movies, but she did it anyway.   
  
"You can't..."  
  
"Oh yes," he interrupted, tossing the crystal aside, "I can. I told you before that when you left here you took a part of the Labyrinth with you, didn't I? A part of its magic?"  
  
She nodded, unsure of what she had now just agreed to.   
  
He gave her a derisive smirk. The look on his face proclaimed his victory even before his words did.   
He couldn't help it. "Who does the Labyrinth belong to, Sarah?"   
  
She felt dizzy suddenly, sick to her stomach. Her eyes fluttered shut as a soft moan escaped her lips. She had never fainted before, but she figured that if she ever did, this would be the time.   
  
It seemed Sarah had a remarkably strong constitution.   
  
His words from their dinner floated back to her in her dreamlike haze of animosity and ruin.  
  
___ "When magic touches a person, it leaves their mark. The moment you left the Underground you took a piece of its magic with you, a piece of me." _   
  
A piece of him.  
  
All too suddenly another memory of the previous night surfaced to her.   
  
She opened her eyes. He had not moved though he seemed to be watching her more intently than before.   
  
The book. Jareth's sudden visit. The restaurant.   
  
Something clicked.   
  
"Why am I here, Jareth?" She asked simply.   
  
He, of course, misinterpreted this as secession.   
  
Perhaps he was a bit too blunt.   
  
"To become my queen."   
  
She blinked. What was that he had just said so factually?   
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
The tone in her voice brought back his cold demeanor that had been shed for a brief moment of honesty.   
  
He stood up and offered her his seat.   
  
"Sit down, Sarah."  
  
She shook her head, defiant tears beginning to brim her eyes. "I'm not sitting there."   
  
He looked back at his throne and opened his mouth to object.  
  
She turned her head away from him and smoothed her hair self-consciously.  
  
Defeated, he pulled a crystal from the air and offered her an inconspicuous seat of blue velvet.   
  
She sat.   
  
Finally.   
  
"I tried to explain this to you before at dinner," he began calmly. "I hold the position of Lord Protector of the Underground, which is vital to the survival of my kingdom, as well as all those in the realm. When you defeated me eight years ago, you jeopardized my status." He took a breath and continued, "you jeopardized my life." This seemed to be a weighty revelation to him and Sarah waited for him to proceed, "More importantly, you put the Underground as a whole in danger, as did I by letting you return." He gave her a look to quell any rebuttals she may have had at this point, she was silent.   
  
"Your return to the Aboveground is high treason, Sarah. It is punishable by one penalty only."   
  
She looked up at him with something like hope in her eyes. Anything. Anything to go home, she would stand court, she would do her -   
  
"Death."   
  
She gasped and her gaze fell to her lap, the crown of her hair hiding her expression from the world. From him.   
  
Maybe now was the time she was to pass out.   
  
There were no words for a moment, and the clicks of Jareth's boots signified that he was moving further away from her. Her head jolted up, she was ashamed of it, but she was afraid to be left alone.   
  
"You brought me here to die?" She pressed, the tears now spilling heavily down her cheeks one at a time.  
  
He wasn't facing her any longer. He stood, back to her, looking out the window that displayed his Labyrinth.   
  
He turned to her languidly, shaking his golden locks.   
  
"I've already told you what I brought you here for."   
  
She didn't understand, and that made her angry. "Jareth, you just ___ said _ -- "   
  
He sighed, moving closer to her. "Members of the royal house are exempt from such offenses as yours Sarah. It all simply goes away. Becoming my queen wins your battle and mine. You live, and I remain Lord Protector by affirming my strength over your will."  
  
She shook her head. "Jareth, I-"   
  
He silenced her with a wave of his hand and a slur of words in a language Sarah didn't understand.   
  
Her body slumped in the chair and Jareth stood over her, watching her as she slept, trying not to feel like he had just had the weight of the world thrust upon his shoulders.  
  
He smoothed the hair from her face.   
  
"Such a pity."   
  
- - - - - -   
  
* avi   
  
  



	12. Rude Awakenings

  
Update! Finally!   
  
Other chapters can be found online at ff.n under Aviry Nolane.   
  
*sigh*  
  
I'm not at all very happy with this chapter, but it will do. 'The Way Back' is becoming an epic, it's going to be lengthy... sigh, but its okay! it really begins to pick up now, and im excited about where its going!   
  
any reviewers worshiped for all eternity -   
  
* aviry  
  
Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back   
Author: Aviry Nolane, Slvrluna47@aol.com  
Date: 1-26-02  
Rating: PG-13?   
Notes:   
  
SIGH   
  
MY GOSH THAT TOOK SO LONG.   
  
this chapter was the hardest thing to write in the history of time. Many thanks to all who reviewed, especially ** Vorbis ** , whose comment i recieved today and i HAD to write another chapter, and to ** Midnight Lady ** i will get that "book thing" cleared up in the next chapter -- promise! MANY THANKS TO EVERYONE! i wouldn't have written anything if it wasn't for you. Also, a special thanks to Solea, who gave me the time of day! I never in ten million years would have gotten the next few chapters designed if it hadn't been for responding to her email, which was then deleted, and then deleted again before i could send it - - but nonetheless, it was helpful! Thank you all! keep r&ring or i may die!   
  
- - - - avi   
  
** Chapter 12 - Rude Awakenings **  
  
  
The foyer was silent.   
  
This may not have seemed out of ordinary to the unaccustomed visitor, but to the  
seasoned guest it was a rare and completely puzzling occurrence. In fact, it was an all together unheard of occasion for the home of the infamous Goblin King.   
  
Suddenly the clock bells sounded their awakening, breaking the calm silence and  
resonating their tune a full seven times before the eerie noiselessness once again claimed the castle.   
  
Down the west hall a single panel doorway looked on, oblivious to the part it played in the intentional silence that took hold of the royal wing. It tuttered on, busying itself with the chores of a palace door, making sure it stayed continuously shut, ensuring that the doorknob was firmly fastened on the face of the door, and of course, closely monitoring the circumstances of the room behind it and the visitors within, to pick up on delightful tidbits of courtly gossip to share with other less fortunate doors which enclosed kitchens or servants quarters. The door scoffed to itself, wouldn't this just make fantastic news? Some unconscious ragamuffin mortal girl swaddled in the Underground's riches right behind its very door frame. It could hardly contain its glee as it went about its chores.   
  
Inside the room the mood was much different. Away from the prying hinges of the  
royal door, the young woman slept on, her quiet, dreamless sleep filling the chamber with a feeling of reservation. The soft light of mismatched candles flickered against the milky pastels of the silken room. The floor was swathed in rich rugs and tapestries, creating the look of an ancient storybook's colorful pages. Over all of this, the doors of the balcony splayed open, the sunset spying in across the peaks of the underground, the last tinges of light illuminating the carpeted floor with streaks of purples and golds.   
  
A simple crystalline melody sang into the room, the open doors welcoming in both the sweet scent of the garden and the ancient songs of its gilded chimes. The light tunes of the song crept into the soft folds of the chamber, running over the rounded edges of the room and filling it with a resonating chime. It was the expressively beautiful, a spectacle that few people other than the very rich and the very imaginative ever get to see.   
  
Unfortunately, the splendor of the king's good graces were lost by the sole inhabitant of the chamber. One Sarah Williams, of 426 Olive Court, Apartment 4B, The Aboveground, who had just found herself thrown right smack into the center of what amounted to the 20th century version of a fairy tale meets felony abduction.   
  
Yes, she was virtually the next "Story at nine" heroine.   
  
There was a slight stirring from the rumpled form of the maiden on the bed. The dark folds of her chestnut hair cascaded onto the silken linens of the billowing cushions, framing her face in a strange mixed halo of both dark and light. From the halo, a magical glow seemed to emanate, the peaceful tranquillity of her sleeping disposition seeming to portray an almost mystical feeling. At the first glance, one would think her a princess, perhaps even a queen. It was only upon closer inspection that one would begin to notice the telling inconsistencies, like the angry pout that crossed her face even in sleep, the chipped hangnail on the index finger of her left hand, not to mention the split ends and the tragically unhip, even for the Underworld, Guess Jeans.   
  
"Oaaeewww..." All at once Sarah opened her eyes, the magic induced groggy haze falling away from her, and tried painfully to register with her surroundings. "Where am..."  
  
It took only a moment.   
  
Her eyes widened in horror.  
  
Oh yes, she knew very well where she was.   
  
She kicked the blankets from her legs and swung herself down from the high four  
poster brass bed. She strode to the far wall of the bed chamber and stood directly in front of the largest wall tapestry. She glared at, perhaps trying to burn a hole through the offensive object with her eyes, if that was in fact the case, she came very close to doing so. The tapestry's figures cringed, the scantily clad maiden gripping ever tighter onto the hardware of the valiant knight.   
  
Sarah glowered at the obvious resemblance between the dark haired harlequiness  
and herself. "Funny," she quipped to the portrait, "I don't remember you having brown hair." And with that she was off, blazing her way through the door and down the west hall, which rang unceremoniously with her angry footfall.   
  
She strode confidently down the hall toward the marble staircase, her eyes fixed on the intricately carved goblin heads which donned the guide rail. Her eyes flashed. She was going to find him. She was going to tell him exactly what she tough of his little gifts. Most importantly, she might even be able to lay her hands on some semi-precious magical artifact to hurl at him.   
  
Not that she knew anything about where she was or just where she was going.   
  
Poor thing.   
  
It almost makes you feel sorry for her.   
  
  
- - - - - - - 


	13. The Storm

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back Author: The pretentious Aviry of Nolane Rating: Rather PG Summary: Sometimes the way forward is the way back... To the aboveground. A  
  
courtly decision is made on Jareth`s behalf and he is forced to protect the  
  
one he loves... Or hates... Or loves... Or doesn`t quite like, but doesn`t really *not* approve of anyway, to keep his position. But that`s beside the  
  
point. After as many twists and turns (possibly as many as the Labyrinth itself) will these two manage to crash into each other? And what of the threat of war? And courtly politics? And Jareth`s family? And my GOODNESS the skeletons in the closet! Keywords: JSR  
  
Notes: Chapter 13 --- I've decided to go with ff.n's way of chapter blocking. This chapter, as are all chapters, is dedicated to our friend caropeach and her memory. I love you caro!!!  
  
and now, on with it -  
  
+ avi.  
  
  
  
Chapter 13 - The Storm  
  
Jareth was the first to hear Sarah's sharp patter and angry huffs as she strode through the hall. After all, he had spent a good deal of his afternoon ensuring that those very same halls had stayed absolutely silent. Weather he had done so out of a desire to let her rest, or a desire to keep her incapacitated for as long as possible, he didn't really know. But subconsciously, he was leaning toward the latter.  
  
At any rate, his interest was surely perked by Sarah's unexpected appearance. His expression was that of a young boy who had just won at game of Twister by pushing all the other competitors down as he raised his form from the chair and readied himself to see her.  
  
And he was very ready to see her. He chuckled to himself.  
  
The Goblin King was entirely in his element.  
  
Indeed, there would be no more secrets, no more half-truths, no more plotting, or scheming to get Sarah into his power. On his mental list of Things He Was Most Thankful For he listed the disappearance of both plaid and flannel from his wardrobe, his knowledge there existed no burnt blue frosted pastries in the Underground, and that there would be no more of Sarah's cooking to suffer through. As an afterthought, he added the combined feeling of joy he gained from there being no more of 'dear Bill', iron frying pans, or bruised foreheads to the list.  
  
As far as he was concerned the past few days were a dream, and the dream, or at least most of it, had passed. It was now that the calculating side of Jareth could truly take effect.  
  
Sarah would finally be his to possess, fully. And she was in no position to ever turn him down again.  
  
Everything had fallen into place perfectly.  
  
After all, he was the imposing Goblin King, he had his most worthy advisary in his clutches, he was a member of the Thirteen Corners Alliance, he was a snappy dresser, devilishly sexy, and it was now looking very good that he would remain the Lord Protector of the Underground. All that coupled with the fact that Sarah was now wandering around his chamber halls made Jareth a very happy fae.  
  
He had also newly discovered the joys of mental list making and was feeling quite good about his situation when the door to the hall swung open before him.  
  
It was with his first step into the hall that Jareth began to see the perverse negative side of the list making theorem.  
  
To begin with, Sarah had heard him approaching and had now turned around and headed back to meet him. Alone, this wasn't a particularly bad omen, except for item number two on the list: the expression on her face. It occurred to Jareth now that it hardly mattered at all that there was not a single iron frying pan in the Underground. Sarah looked ready to kill him with any implement found at her disposal.  
  
Somehow her appearance set his good list tally to zero.  
  
Expressionless, he stood his ground.  
  
She reached him with a violent huff. Her hands swung onto her hips, and he felt himself being stared down by someone who only reached his shoulders.  
  
Sarah had had a good deal of time wandering the halls to think over her exact words, and it showed. She needed none of her acting training to develop the fuming glare she had now fixed on him.  
  
"You monster," she sneered, "You make me absolutely sick." She spoke slowly, her sentences littered with the many short breaks that she had found so offensive when Jareth spoke to her only days ago in her office. "May I suggest that instead of spending your time kidnapping innocents and retracing your life's many failures you seriously consider psychoanalysis?  
  
She took a moment, reveling in her brief pauses. "I am not your pet. I am not your parakeet. I am not your friend," she glared at him, placing her strongest emphasis on this last point, "and I am most certainly I not I your future Queen."  
  
His gaze narrowed, only his eyes giving any trace of the anger which boiled within him.  
  
Sarah countered this action with her own icy glare, a part of her delighting in the fact that she had managed to rile him. She continued, "Furthermore, your highness", she quipped sarcastically, "I refuse to be treated like some sort of harem. I have a life, I have a home, I have a family, I have a fiancé who loves me. I am not about to give any one of those up for anyone, least of all I you. /I"  
  
Her rehearsed speech drew to a close and she sighed inwardly. She was quite proud if herself, for a moment. And then the seconds grew longer.  
  
A moment passed.  
  
And another.  
  
Sarah began to worry. This was the time he was supposed to say something, to rave, to shout, to be frightening, to lose interest in fighting this impossible battle and send her home.  
  
So far he was accomplishing only one of those key actions Sarah had planned for.  
  
He stood, silent and unmoving, staring back at her with the most pointed of the glares she had ever seen him to possess. He was very, very frightening.  
  
Still, she did not relax her furious stare. She wanted to go home, and she was not about to be beaten by his silence, no matter how unnerving it was.  
  
She had grown so used to the tense feeling of total silence that she almost let out a sigh of relief when he finally spoke.  
  
Almost being the operative word.  
  
His form relaxed, as if he had really been frozen the entire time he had been standing before her. She wondered briefly if perhaps a great draft had come and frozen him in front of her very eyes and now she would have to give her impassioned speech all over again.  
  
But it soon became quite clear that he had heard and fully absorbed every word.  
  
"Are you quite finished?" He raised an eyebrow in her direction strategically.  
  
She was astounded, this was not the way it was supposed to go. Where was the shouting, the fireworks, the flying crystals, the testosterone driven show of force?  
  
Her expression must have given away her shock because the icy storm of his glare relaxed into a mild frost when she breathed her final reply. "Yes."  
  
"Good."  
  
He turned away and made his way back into his study.  
  
By the time Sarah thought to take a step to follow him, she was standing in her own room. 


	14. Exposed

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back Author: The pretentious Aviry of Nolane Rating: Rather PG Summary: Sometimes the way forward is the way back... To the aboveground. A  
  
courtly decision is made on Jareth`s behalf and he is forced to protect the  
  
one he loves... Or hates... Or loves... Or doesn`t quite like, but doesn`t really *not* approve of anyway, to keep his position. But that`s beside the  
  
point. After as many twists and turns (possibly as many as the Labyrinth itself) will these two manage to crash into each other? And what of the threat of war? And courtly politics? And Jareth`s family? And my GOODNESS the skeletons in the closet! Keywords: JSR  
  
Notes: Yub, yub. Chapter 14, bah, it's not phenomenal, but it's getting there. Thank you Terrie and JLF for reviewing  
  
  
  
Chapter 14 - Exposed  
  
"You did what?"  
  
"I locked her in her room." Jareth reclined casually into the leather- backed seat in his study, propping his feet up on the ottoman before him he gazed back at his advisor.  
  
"You did what?" He asked again.  
  
"Alec, honestly. Listening is a skill." He smiled at his little joke and turned his attention to the flames that consumed the mirkwood in his fireplace.  
  
"I heard what you said, Jareth. I was just curious as to how locking her in her room aligns at all with your plans." Alec slumped down into a nearby chair, apparently exhausted by the shock of the king's actions.  
  
"I assure you, it assists my plans in the most important respects." He turned his attentions back to Alec with a sincere smile, "I can't very well have her running all over the castle, proclaiming my unjust and monstrous sentiments towards her. Whatever would the kitchen staff think?"  
  
Alec saw the truth behind this statement, and perhaps a little more. He sighed. "The kitchen staff is already aware of your most delightful personality traits, my liege. "He paused, "Jareth, honestly, you are suddenly the most inept man at personal relations I have ever come across. I must say that I don't understand this situation at all. You are King Jareth, Lord Protector of the Underground, third in line to the Seelie throne, practically the immortal lust god of the third realm," he laughed aloud at this, raising his arms in confusion. "She's just a girl! A young, mortal girl, who somehow had the dumb luck to end up at your castle door before her time was up."  
  
Alec's dark eyes sparkled with laughter and amusement as he focused his gaze on the now nervously pacing king.  
  
Jareth had stood at some time during this proclamation, and now paced the room with feverish intensity.  
  
"It's not that at all, Alec."  
  
Alec feigned innocent misunderstanding as he gazed up at Jareth from his sitting position. "Really? Well then, enlighten me on exactly what it is."  
  
Jareth turned his back to the dark-haired fae, facing the oil painting that looked out on his study. His words were weighty and seemed forced.  
  
"I," he took a breath, "I let her win."  
  
Alec gasped dramatically, but remained unmoving. "You what?"  
  
Jareth turned, a surprised smirk lacing the edges of his face. "You knew?"  
  
Alec laughed at this, "Yes, yes I knew." When Jareth didn't continue he sat up from his reclining position and went on. "You could have erased her memory, you could have lied to the courts, you could have kept her. The Jareth I knew would have kept her." He paused, staring up at his once teacher with sincere confusion, "The Jareth I knew wouldn't have let her win in the first place."  
  
Jareth carefully folded himself back into his chair, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead with his fingers. "That's exactly what I thought, too."  
  
"So then why did you-"  
  
"Send Nelly to be with her, Alec." Jareth cut in, "We have work to do, and I don't want to be bothered with her until I'm through."  
  
Alec nodded, agreeing with the order even before it was given, "Of course, Nelly would love to come, but before she does, maybe you should go let the girl I out /I."  
  
"I don't have the time for her right now, Alec." quipped the Goblin King, obviously starting to loose patience with the whole thing.  
  
Alec stood and reached for his cloak near the door, "Jareth, tomorrow I am coming to discuss the ascent of the Fellowship. Most likely the next few weeks of both our lives will be filled with legislation, discussion, and planning. If I'm staying here to discuss business, I don't want your head in the clouds wondering what to do with that girl you have locked away in some chamber."  
  
Jareth opened his mouth to speak, but this time he was the one to be cut off.  
  
"Take care of it tonight, Jareth."  
  
The king nodded, resigned. "I'll see you tomorrow, Alec."  
  
And with that, the dark-haired visitor disappeared. 


	15. Visitors At The ShangriLa

The Labyrinth: The Way Back Author: Aviry Nolane Rating: PG thus far Summary: Sometimes the way forward is the way back... To the aboveground. A courtly decision is made on Jareth`s behalf and he is forced to protect the one he loves... Or hates... Or loves... Or doesn`t quite like, but doesn`t really *not* approve of anyway, to keep his position. But that`s beside the point. After as many twists and turns (possibly as many as the Labyrinth itself) will these two manage to crash into each other? And what of the threat of war? And courtly politics? And Jareth`s family? And my GOODNESS the skeletons in the closet! Keywords: J/S?  
  
Notes: This Chapter dedicated to Redaura, Solea, JLF, and HorseBabe  
  
Thanks guys!  
  
Chapter 15 - Visitors at the Shangri-La  
  
Sarah felt the footsteps before she heard them. She couldn't explain it, but she knew that there was something coming, could feel its presence moving down the hall, before she even heard the light tapping outside the door.  
  
One could call it magical, intriguing, mysterious even.  
  
Sarah was just plain freaked out.  
  
She gave a light involuntary shudder before she slipped the bedding from her form. She really, really, had a very strong dislike for this room. And once she had discovered her 'prince charming' had locked her in, it only made her discomfort grow.  
  
It seemed to patronize her silently, the ominous lurking of the tapestries, half hidden behind the thick folds of dangerous looking silken throws, the embroidered faces of the men and animals seemingly plotting her demise in the chilling half candlelight. There were so many rugs under her that she felt they positively must have been concealing something. She had the sinking feeling that if she were to remove one, the whole of the floor would open beneath her and she would be lost to it.  
  
All of that coupled with the fact that she was in the home of the Goblin King left a very bad taste in her mouth.  
  
She was alert. She was cautious. She was prepared.  
  
She at once found herself reciting what seemed to have become her mantra. "I am calm. I am relaxed. I am perfectly sane. I am not in a room full of evil rugs and sinister wall hangings. There is no Underground. And there is certainly no Goblin - Oooh."  
  
Again, she stopped herself.  
  
She didn't him to think she was inviting him anywhere, especially not in this sad excuse for a murderous burlesque house.  
  
Even though he didn't exist.  
  
Sarah was very confused.  
  
"I'm asleep." She gasped. "I am asleep, and I am perfectly calm."  
  
Call it a defense mechanism, but she made no move to pinch herself. She was alert. She was cautious. She was prepared, after all.  
  
At least that's what she told herself.  
  
Actually, she seemed rather paranoid.  
  
Isn't that what he wanted anyway? Sarah snorted. Who I cared /I what he wanted?  
  
Mr. Smooth talking Goblin King was getting nowhere near her good side. "What does he think," Sarah said aloud to herself, "he can just kidnap me to some castle, I which doesn't even exist /I," she reminded herself, "tell me I'm going to be killed, or marry him, and then lock me in some hideous representation of a romance novel gone horribly, horribly wrong?"  
  
It seemed Sarah had shed some light on the finer points of her situation.  
  
She had long since noticed that the room she now inhabited was the same room depicted in Damien's Jewel, the novelette she had been reading in bed the night Jareth first paid her a visit.  
  
However, it was a grotesque depiction at best. Yes there were murals, there were tapestries, there were rugs galore, silken throws, window chimes, seemingly hundreds of candles, and yet. it all seemed so distastefully phony. The largest tapestry was the greatest example Sarah could note. An enlarged version of the book cover, yet where the scantily clad blonde heroine had stood, clinging to the knights shield, a darker woman had been imposed, hair and eyes like Sarah's, yes, but no less scantily clad. She had also noticed the distinct similarities between "Damien" and Jareth. Funny, she didn't remember Damien being that blonde. Or that thin.  
  
"What is this?" She wondered, "the Medieval fantasy room at the Shangri- La?"  
  
So why was she feeling like she was trapped inside some filthy room at a hotel that charged by the hour, when she was locked inside the bedchamber of a king's castle?  
  
The king's identity withstanding, of course.  
  
Sarah had the distinct feeling that she was trapped under a mound of garbage again, just as she had been when she was a girl, and everything in this room was simply an exaggerated version of a simple idea.  
  
But then again, Jareth had never occurred to Sarah's mind as being a simple idea. In fact, he was the very essence of contradiction. He was beautiful, that much Sarah admitted to, yet his ways were so ugly. His status was refined but his manner coarse and haughty, his power was great, yet sometimes to her, he seemed very weak.  
  
Like when she had beaten him. Or when he had let her win, so he said, or whatever the case was.  
  
Sarah was very confused.  
  
Not that she had thought of this at all in the last several hours she had huddled under her bedcovers.  
  
Not at all.  
  
Her anger had faded hours before, and while she was no philosopher, but she was a brainy young woman on the cusp of sanity. For the life of her she had been trying to sort things out, to make sense of any part of her predicament.  
  
The list was long and involved, and she had given a good deal of thought to each question.  
  
What did he want? What did she want? Would she really have to marry him? Was there a way to avoid death in either scenario? What exactly started all this in the first place? If she married him, could she just go home? Why did he say he had "let her win?" Why this room? Was everything he said a lie, or just most of it? Who did his hair? And most importantly, to her twenty-something mind, Why had he kissed her the night before they left?  
  
After hours of internal debate, Sarah had answered only one of these questions.  
  
"I want to go home," she said to no one.  
  
The tapping outside the door drew closer, and Sarah slipped off the bed carefully, lest there be some craftily concealed goblin reaching for her ankles under the bed.  
  
Who could blame her really, after an experience like hers she had never really gotten over the "Mommy, there's a monster under my bed," phase, and was thus emotionally stunted.  
  
The footfall drew closer. Sarah's gaze narrowed, the old rage burning within her, newly alight with her unanswered questions. Yes, she was going to get to the bottom of them all, alright. And she was doing it right now or so help her --  
  
By the time the light knock at the door had sounded, Sarah had already begun to poke at the panel. She had no way to open it, as it remained firmly locked, "Come in," she commanded, standing her ground.  
  
She mentally groped at the first question she was going to throw at him when he walked through the door. She had no intention of being shipped off to some tower before she could get a full sentence out.  
  
Men.  
  
Well, Jareth anyway.  
  
She had decided to start with why she had ended up inside a Women's Entertainment Movie of the Week bedroom, and move quickly along to if everything he said was pure fabrication, or just most of it, and move down the line from there, when the door swung open.  
  
Sarah's face fell.  
  
She could tell right away that she was getting no answers from him tonight.  
  
The figure stepped into the room, "hello, I'm Nelly."  
  
The woman smiled brightly and Sarah found herself wanting to lie down, curl up, and shred mental pictures of her captor until he found the presence of mind to come here himself. 


	16. We All Make Mistakes

  
The Labyrinth: The Way Back  
Author: Aviry Nolane, slvrluna47@aol.com  
Rating: PG thus far   
Summary: Sometimes the way forward is the way back... To the aboveground. A   
courtly decision is made on Jareth`s behalf and he is forced to protect the   
one he loves... Or hates... Or loves... Or doesn`t quite like, but doesn`t   
really *not* approve of anyway, to keep his position. But that`s beside the   
point. After as many twists and turns (possibly as many as the Labyrinth   
itself) will these two manage to crash into each other? And what of the   
threat of war? And courtly politics? And Jareth`s family? And my GOODNESS the   
skeletons in the closet!   
Keywords: J/S?   
  
Notes: This dedicated to Saffron Angel, for she is mighty. ( and watching. )   
  
Also: Midnight Lady, Silver Space, fae-crazed, Gail, Squeezy Stan, BatBLady, Anyastayzya, pheobemoon, General Mevnerie, Rylnina, terrie, Solea, Megan, Lady Sorrow, Redaura, JLF, Vorbis, and Caro.   
  
:: whew! ::   
  
Props to you all. Reviewers are worshiped for all eternity!   
  
The Labyrinth: The Way Back   
  
Chapter 16 - We All Make Mistakes   
  
The sentiments were much the same for the dark eyed fae who watched this same passage through his scrying pool.   
  
The young man let out a sigh of boyish exhaustion.   
  
"No, no," he chuckled to himself; "this will just not do at all."   
  
Shaking his head, he raised himself from his seat before the scrying pool and strode toward the large wooden chest near the door to his chamber. The light was bright and clean here, most of the illumination coming from the glass ceilings overhead, and the few sparse glowing crystals with floated freely above him. He reached up to pull a smaller light crystal near to the chest to illuminate the area behind the double doors.   
  
The small bauble tingled beneath his fingers, and as he let it go it lightly made its way to the top of the enclosure.   
  
"Let me just see what I have here," Alec murmured to himself, his branching fingertips sifting through the throng of vials and plant life that permeated his alchemy chest. "Carrowax, Halbotal, Misquit, Falraj," His face scrunched into a look of disgust as he stuck his fingers in what appeared to be a mixture of seaweed and goblin dung. "Bladwat."   
  
Appearances are not always deceiving.   
  
He shook his head, wiping his soiled hands on a small towel, which hung on the side of the door. As he did so, his marriage band clipped a small vial, producing a light ringing through the room. "What have we here?" he questioned, leaning closer, "Blesphemene?"  
  
The shadowy fae's face lit with recognition, a strange glow slipping across his features.   
  
Reaching out, he pulled the small red vial from its velvet encasing.   
  
"You, my little friend," he spoke to the vial, "will make me a very happy man."   
  
Laughing, the tall form of Jareth's former student, now teacher, reached for his cloak and was gone.   
  
  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -   
  
  
Jareth paced his study anxiously.   
  
Of course he had no intention of going to see Sarah that night, what could Alec be thinking? Boisterous child.   
  
Honestly, it had occurred to him that perhaps the younger fae were a bit lacking in the logical sense, but he never would have expected such a variable burst of ignorance from someone he had taken into his own studies.   
  
True, Alec was only a few hundred years younger than he was, but apparently, that meant nothing in the realm of realistic goal management.   
  
And Jareth was usually a master of realistic goal management.  
  
Or so he believed.   
  
"I'm not expecting her to fall in love with me," Jareth quipped angrily at the small statuette of a dancing bear on his desk, "I'm asking her to live up to her half of the bargain. Really, you'd think he was trying his hand at love connection."   
  
Of course this statement would have been a great deal more ironic had Jareth actually ever heard of or seen the American hit television series, Love Connection, but Jareth hardly had any idea what Americans were, let alone television.   
  
"And what's more," continued Jareth, apparently enjoying this little debate of wits between himself and the small inanimate brass object, "he thought that I would be _ distracted _ by that little minx? Head in the clouds? Ha!" Jareth laughed heartily, a rather obnoxious undertone lacing his confusion. "Just who does he think I am? Some heartsick mid-quartered teenager?"  
  
As the fae have no word for the mortal "puberty" the phrase "mid-quartered" had somehow worked itself into their vocabulary, but the meaning was entirely the same.   
  
"And I am not distracted in the least. I am in my prime," he paused here, shaking his finger at the dancing brass animal with emphasis, "I can concentrate perfectly well on business. After all, I am a king, not a sturling!"   
  
Again, the language barrier becomes apparent. It seems at some point the fae community took the mortal, English word "student" to be "sturling", no one is entirely sure how such an exchange worked out, and as the fae are mostly self-involved pompous egomaniacs; no one is really terribly concerned with trivialities like language.   
  
"Head in the clouds," he scoffed, "wondering about some girl I have locked away somewhere. As if I am incapable of concentrating because that harpy of a girl is safely tucked away in my house. Ridiculous!"   
  
He stopped here, hands on his hips, breathing heavily towards his audience.   
  
"Well?"   
  
The bear danced on, oblivious.  
  
Distraught by the lack of support he received from the usually jovially dancing bear, he threw his hands up in the air and fell back into a stuffed chair behind him.   
  
Reaching for a folder thick with documents before him, he reclined into the chair's embrace.   
  
"I can concentrate just fine," he directed at the bear, "you just watch."   
  
After an intense moment of locking stares between himself and the bear, it seemed the bear was again victorious.   
  
"Milene!" Jareth shouted.   
  
He had to wait but a moment before his shout was answered with a soft murmur from the doorway, "Yes, milord?"  
  
Jareth was facing the opposite direction, preferring to wage a second staring battle with the brass statue than to turn to see his servant; he gestured her in with a flick of his wrist.   
  
"Bring me my dinner, Milene."   
  
"Of course, milord," came the soft pattered reply.   
  
At once, a steaming plate of food was brought before him, along with a hearty goblet of wine.   
  
Admitting defeat to his foe, Dancing Bear, he closed his eyes, reclined back into his chair and drained the whole of the goblet.   
  
We all make mistakes.  
  
  
- - - - - - + avi. ( email me, pweeze? comments? ) 


	17. Give A Little

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back Author: Aviry Nolane, slvrluna47@aol.com Rating: PG thus far Summary: Sometimes the way forward is the way back... To the aboveground. A courtly decision is made on Jareth`s behalf and he is forced to protect the one he loves... Or hates... Or loves... Or doesn`t quite like, but doesn`t really *not* approve of anyway, to keep his position. But that`s beside the point. After as many twists and turns (possibly as many as the Labyrinth itself) will these two manage to crash into each other? And what of the threat of war? And courtly politics? And Jareth`s family? And my GOODNESS the skeletons in the closet! -- Read if you dare :) Keywords: JSR?  
  
Notes: Dedications this time to Meg, Redaura, Solea ( as always ), JLF, Meamiko AND Arianne.  
  
thank you all so much!  
  
:: passes out cookies to reviewers ::  
  
enjoy!  
  
Chapter 17 - Give A Little  
  
It was not until a few moments later that Jareth began to feel that something was not quite right.  
  
He had long since drained the glass of wine that still sat before him and a realization dawned on him now that he had not thought of before.  
  
If he didn't see Sarah now, there was no telling if she would ever be still long enough for him to reach her, and what of shrinking? If she shrunk tonight there would be no finding her by morning.  
  
He stood, spurred on by this seemingly practical thought, and moved toward the door with what felt to him like remarkable ease. Making his way through the hall proved more difficult, as he could not seem to remember precisely which room he had placed his guest in. After several wrong choices, including various bedchambers and closets he had never known existed, he finally discovered the door to Sarah's room.  
  
Pushing it open with a light hand, he marveled at the way the door slid away beneath his gloved fingertips. The door practically swung off its hinges with excitement at this miniscule touch. "The king, the king, the king," it hummed through the halls at the other less fortunate doors. It's tune was cut off mid-song when the other doors chimed in that they too had just been used by the king and that its doorknob was mildly rusted.  
  
Jareth had no interest in the wiles of doors, though he could hear them if he so desired, and was therefore immune to their immature wiles.  
  
He had his mind set on one thing and one thing only.  
  
He didn't wait a moment before barging his way quickly into the lush room he had prepared for his, he thought, soon to be bride.  
  
And was all together shocked with what he found.  
  
Sarah sat with her back to him, shrouded in a halo of her silky blankets. Her pale skin was illuminated five fold by the contrasting surroundings and she began to look frail and small to him. He could just make out the side of her face as she wiped at the tears, which dropped listlessly to the gathering of blankets around her. He marveled at this uncharacteristic display of her weaknesses. It was not often that she was in a room with him long without insulting him in some way or whining about how dreadfully unfair something was.  
  
Not that any of that mattered now.  
  
Jareth was punch drunk.  
  
He turned, clicking the door back into place and could hear the quick rustling of blankets that signified Sarah's movement.  
  
They turned to each other in a moment of liquid silence.  
  
Jareth's eyes were open and unfocused, staring blankly at Sarah in a way he had never managed before.  
  
She blinked, dropping the blankets from her sides on the chair and looked back.  
  
"Is there a reason he's not glaring at me?" She wondered to herself.  
  
He took a step forward in her direction. A wobbly step. And another.  
  
"Ahh," Sarah noted to herself, "the wonders of alcohol."  
  
If only it had been just that.  
  
"Sarah," Jareth gasped, "I need to talk to you. I need to see you. I-" he broke off, slumping against the bed.  
  
More confused than concerned, Sarah's brow knotted and she rose to meet him. She was quite aware he had made it as far as he was going to, and for this, he was grateful.  
  
Reaching a hand out to steady himself, Jareth reclined against a bedpost and maneuvered himself down onto the foot of Sarah's bed. Sarah assisted as best she could, moving close to prop a pillow behind him as he stared up her, pupils wide, his gaze apparently locked to hers.  
  
"Sarah," he tried again.  
  
Never one to miss an opportunity, Sarah's mind flew back to the list of questions she had composed earlier.  
  
"Jareth," she blurted, "I want to go home."  
  
Now, if you yourself were raised in the Aboveground, and had a mother or father anything like most mothers and fathers of the Aboveground, you would most likely be familiar with the saying, "Think before you speak".  
  
Blame it on Sarah's broken home and scattered upbringing, but she had no sense of timing.  
  
Jareth's gaze narrowed as best it could under the influence of the blesphemene in his system, which was not very far. It came out as the dejected squint of a slightly miffed kitten, rather than the earth shattering, heavens thundering, confidence melting, colder than ice stare he meant it to be.  
  
It was a night of many compromises.  
  
He sighed, now resolved to his fate at the mercy of the drug that circulated through his veins.  
  
"Then go home, Sarah. You go home and you die." He paused, "You leave me now Sarah, and we die."  
  
His eyes met hers once again, and he felt himself drawn into their depths. There was anger there, betrayal, and hatred.  
  
And something he sincerely hoped was pity.  
  
"Sarah," he whispered aloud, his mouth having no control over the truth that poured from it "My poor beautiful thing. I'm sorry for what I've done to you."  
  
Sarah jolted.  
  
"I never meant to hurt you, you know," Jareth murmured.  
  
She stayed silent, frozen by his words, but her mind was a different case all together. Inside it was screaming something like "whatwhatwhathuh?!shhh?badguy!badbadwhatwhatwhat" at the top of its little mind lungs.  
  
"What?"  
  
"That night at the restaurant, you were so lovely." He continued, "But it was all a game."  
  
He sighed. "Such a pity."  
  
"What?" she repeated again, this time more urgently.  
  
He didn't answer, preferring instead to look away from her and stare at something which didn't move nearly as much as she did, like the tiny silver handed hairbrush on her armoire.  
  
It was quite possible he hadn't heard her at all. He hadn't heard a word he had just spoken, after all.  
  
And one can hardly pick and choose.  
  
Sarah was incensed.  
  
She just obviously didn't get it.  
  
"You cant keep me here, Jareth. I don't care what you say! I am no part of this place. I am no part of you," she steamed on, "let me go."  
  
Jareth sighed, leaning back against his makeshift seat, and Sarah was taken aback by the look in his eyes. "Sarah," he pleaded, "Just what is so horrible about staying here?" The words were unsaid, but Sarah caught the meaning behind his whispered statement, the words "with me" floating between them in the night air.  
  
She waited. She may have been a bit thrown off by Jareth's frequent appearances in her bedrooms, even moreso by his disassociative state. She may have been a bit confused by his sudden burst of feeling. She may have even been concerned about the vaguely wounded look in his eyes, but there was still no way she was answering such an obviously loaded question.  
  
"None of your tricks, you Goblin King," she stammered.  
  
"You know my name, Sarah. Why result to such childish name calling?" He smiled, a bit of the pompous king she knew now seeping back into his demeanor.  
  
"You are the Goblin King." Sarah repeated anxiously, "I'm not saying anything that isn't true."  
  
"Tsk, tsk, Sarah," Jareth tossed his gossamer locks about him with a shake of his head, the grin still permeating his features making him again seem menacing. "Neither am I. Not tonight, anyway. Should I call you by the name your role so adequately fitted you for?"  
  
"What is this?" Sarah wondered, "He's almost being. playful."  
  
When she stared blankly back at him, he continued. "The senseless spoiled brat who risked both her life and her brothers, fighting against a dangerous foe."  
  
"A dangerous foe she defeated." She snapped in sudden defense.  
  
Jareth's grin fell, "Really Sarah, why do we play this elaborate game?" He stood quickly, a fire lighting in his eyes, and Sarah jumped up from her position on the bed, moving toward the window with an agility she hadn't known herself to possess.  
  
He seemed confused by her sudden reaction, and turned to face her, his frame looming over her crouched form. The blesphemene's effects were falling away from his physical form, but the mental distinction it made seemed quite intact.  
  
"Am I so frightening?"  
  
Her answer slipped out before she could stop it. "Yes."  
  
He paused, taking this time to drink her words in fully. He stalked toward her, reaching over to her where she still stood frozen in anticipation.  
  
"Oh, you silly child."  
  
His fingers brushed delicately across her jaw line and Sarah closed her eyes, a sleek tear tracing a path down her cheek.  
  
Something had occurred to her in that moment. She now knew for certain that she wasn't going home.  
  
The next words he whispered were solid and laced with an undeniable truth.  
  
"I loved you once you know."  
  
She clenched her eyes shut even tighter, hoping to block out the emotions that flooded her.  
  
"I thought I could do so again."  
  
His touch fell from her and the thunder of his heels echoed in her head as he turned and walked away from her.  
  
The door slammed shut. 


	18. The Purple Dagger

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back

Author: Aviry Nolane

Email: posters of this story will be shot on site.

Please ask before archiving.

Disclaimer: Not mine, yada yada.

Note:

Well, it's certainly been... forever since I updated. I had forgotten completely about this fic, until (thanks to recent comments) it was revitalized.

More later, but now... ON WITH THE SHOW

**Chapter 18 - The Purple Dagger**

Alec shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Funny, he didn't remember any blue velvet armchairs ever being present in Jareth's throne room before, and yet today the place was positively flooded with them. The sea of powder blue reached from wall to wall and back again, the empty chairs seemingly lying in wait for a Goblin Scout convention that would never take place.

Which was not to say that the new décor was highly appreciated, in fact, it struck Alesandor as being rather, well… Girly.

Alec grinned. So, the lady of the castle was making her presence known already. He

decided at once that this was to be taken as a good omen, though a note pertaining to her particular style was made as well.

Fumbling for his balance atop the uncomfortable excuse for a velvet pyramid, Alec turned his attention to his royal counterpart.

Jareth sat without ceremony at the base of his throne, chin cradled in his left hand, staring intently at what seemed to be a morsel of forgotten Goblin Chow.

Alec's gaze remained affixed to the form of the king as he rose and glared unceremoniously at the chow, kicking it heartily across the room. The change in his mood evidently swinging from one of quiet reflection to intense rage.

One hardly had to be the Lord Protector of the Underworld to figure out what had Jareth's knickers in a twist.

Tapping his quill on the inside edge of his parchment folder, Alec observed the king as a common and indifferent party. This, luckily for the Goblin King, was exactly what was needed at the time.

For instance, by the way a certain King of the Underground was now pacing relentlessly up and down his marble foyer, one was left to surmise that last night all had not gone exactly as planned. Had it not been for Alec's ability to commonly and indifferently mention this flustered state, it just may have gone unnoticed by the king himself.

I didn't say it was likely.

Unable to stand the resolute silence, Alec broke in with the first conversational gambit which came to mind. "Why, Jareth. I didn't realize you were redecorating."

A shade of confusion crossed the king's face and Alec motioned haphazardly to the abundance of blue velvet in the surrounding area.

"Ah, yes." Jareth nodded, obviously sorting through the haze of the previous evening, "You see she refused to sit in my throne when we first arrived," he paused, straining for memory, "I made her this chair instead… And then, last night," he stopped and shrugged, "it seemed important, at the time, to make more of them. In case of emergency, you know."

Alec bit his tongue nearly to the point of madness to keep from laughing.

His gesture did not go unnoticed.

Jareth returned to his throne and casually draped a leg over an extended arm. "You see, Alesander, it seems last night someone played a bit of a prank on me."

"A prank?" Alesander mused, "whatever do you mean?"

"I'm sure you're acquainted with one of my favorite little tricks, Alec. In fact, I remember while I was schooling you it seemed to be one of your most favored as well."

"You mean the peaches, I presume?" Alec played.

"Indeed I do." Jareth stared relentlessly in Alec's general direction, though the high dosage of Blesphemene still coursing through his veins from the previous night made it difficult to lock in on his exact position.

"That is unfortunate, Jareth." Alec quipped, "do you have any leads as to the culprit?"

"None." Jareth replied stoically, and then, with a shake of his gossamer locks, "what say you we get down to business at last, old boy?"

"It has to be done, I suppose." With that, the dark fae stood and pulled a stray leaflet from his folder. Walking to the edge of Jareth's throne he held it out in offering.

"What is this?" Jareth asked, pulling the seal.

"It's the fellowship, Jareth." Alec shook his head, "they're coming closer, undoubtedly by a design of some sort. This pamphlet was found in the neighboring lands of Asilica."

Jareth's body jerked to attention. "So close to your Napora, Alec."

"Close, yes. But closer still to the kingdom of the Sil Elvin, home of the Goblin King."

Jareth shook his head. "Tirisias has no business with me, Alec. Our score was settled long ago."

"By your rights yes, Jareth." Alec reached out and laid a firm hand on the king's shoulder, staring directly into his icy glare, "but not by his." Alec turned and walked to the balcony of the throne room which overlooked the lands of the Sil Elvin. "Their numbers are increasing, Jareth. The sign of the purple dagger increases also."

At once, Jareth jumped to his feet. "I can do no more of this today, Alec. As long as my position as Lord Protector hangs in the balance of the Fae Court, there is nothing I can do. My powers are useless and without measure in this battle until I am secured."

Turning, Alec raised a concerned brow to the king he had grown to respect so highly.

"Yes, my lord. And they know this. It would be to your advantage to, as you put it, secure your position, as soon as possible." With his piece then said, Alec winked. "You know, Jareth, Nelly can't do everything for you. She is my wife after all, and I don't mind telling you that the idea of her marrying Sarah is a bit off-course to me."

Silently, Jareth stepped down from his throne. "Enough of this then. Let's discuss Nelly's obligation to her brother over lunch." Grinning, Alec strung his arm across the king's

shoulders as best he could manage. "No, no, my liege. If we discuss any woman over lunch, let it be Sarah. I want to be sure of your appetite."

"Alec, you wouldn't be able to recall the key ingredient in such a narcotic potion as the Goblin's peach, would you?"

"Of course I do, Jareth. Blesphemene."

The king scoffed, "Oh my friend, I fear you have much to atone for."

Had he known any better, he would have found this statement ironic.

------

avi


	19. Atonment

b Chapter 19 - Atonement /b 

Sarah awoke with the distinct feeling that the previous night was not a dream.

Which, for Sarah Williams, was breaking a fairly dominant trend as of late. And obviously, for the average individual, this would be considered a relief.

But Sarah had never been what anyone would call "average".

Raising herself from the tangle of her bed sheets, Sarah pushed herself towards her night table.

She sat, and immediately set down to assessing the business of the day, and whereas she was nearly three hundred percent sure that her chamber door was locked tight, the business of the day was taking the form of staring at her reflection in the wall sized mirror.

She spoke aloud to no one in particular as she did a sort of inventory of her physical being, which was much easier to account for than her spiraling thoughts.

"Eyebrows," she mused, "check."

"Cheekbones, check. Forehead, check. Freckle, check. Nose," she paused at this and squinted unhappily into the mirror, "double check."

Sighing, she continued on with her routine. "Lips -"

"Dreadfully in need of someone to talk to."

Sarah, somehow still being capable of shock, despite her past week, whipped her body around in so fast a motion that she found her bottom flat on the floor. A position she was beginning to find herself in more and more these days, she was still adverse to the sound that invariably came out as she hit.

"Gralp!" She spit out as her rear made direct and very hard contact with the mess of carpets. Jerking her head up, her eyes made contact with the scurrying form of a very petite blond headed woman rushing her way.

"I'm so sorry," she rushed lightly as she bent to help a very confused Sarah to her feet. "The door was open, and when you didn't answer I let myself in, and -- oh!" She paused, taking a moment to fill her lungs with the air she needed to continue. "I'm just so very sorry!"

Sarah was so astonished to see anything remotely resembling a human being that for a moment she couldn't say anything. Rendered speechless, she let the sliver of a woman lead her back to her bed, where she sat without further comment.

"I really should have been more careful, you know," the young woman went on, "how stupid of me to just rush in. Jareth said it was likely you'd be off-kilter today -- and what do I do? Oh, Everyone is always saying I have the patience of a klipglof, rushing here and there, and oh, just generally butting in-" Sarah didn't have the mental power to inquire or even wonder what exactly a klipo-whatever was, as she was still stuck on the Jareth half of the equation. By the time she had put two an two together, the woman was rambling on at what Sarah presumed to be twice the speed of light.

"But with the state of your poor nerves and all, oh -- I'm so sorry."

She was now dotting Sarah's head with a wet parcel of herbs that had seemingly come from out of thin air, and the look on her face stared expectantly back at Sarah's wide eyed gaze.

Sarah's heart fell momentarily as the hope of another mortal in the Underground was swept away. Yes, there was definitely an element of the otherworldly about this character.

"Jareth sent you?" was all she could think to stammer out. "My Goblin King, Terror of the Night, Scumsucking Creep of the Earth Jareth?"

Insults were rarely one of Sarah's strong points, yet on this occasion she felt strangely proud of her assessment. "Scumsucking Creep of the Earth indeed," she mused inwardly.

Nevermind that Sarah's newfound guest had no idea what an earth even was, and that "scumsucking" was a term even Sarah hadn't used since the fourth grade, she worked with what she had.

To her surprise, the young woman merely laughed, "Your Jareth indeed!" she quipped. "He's quite 'round your little finger I see," she added, making a gesture indicating Sarah's bedchamber was a laugh-and-a-half for her as well.

She sighed then, and absentmindedly straightened the line of her skirts, which Sarah noticed would fetch a fantastic price even in the Aboveground. As the tiny woman took a moment to settle her laughter, which at one point reached the verge of tears, Sarah took a moment of her own to observe.

While she was a tiny girl, there was no indication that she was by any means frail. Indeed, Sarah thought that she looked very much like the models that came to her monthly, posing with their lycra in Shape Magazine.

Of course Sarah rarely did anything but flip through the monthly reminder of her lovehandles before tossing it unceremoniously on the coffee table.

If she wasn't going to be fit, at least her guests would think she tried.

To her dismay, the girl also had the billowing white blonde hair of supermodels, and the skin of a china doll. Sarah was mentally put to shame for a moment, the exact apparition of Star Magazine perfection was kneeling on her bed, dressed for the Oscars, and here was Sarah, pitifully messy, out of shape, and definitely on the worst dressed list.

'Above,' she added mentally, 'Star Jones, but below Courtney Love."

Yes, Sarah did a lot of reading.

If she hadn't been so obviously sweet, Sarah was sure that one thought would come to mind, had she ever crossed her path on a busy New York street.

Bitch.

Back in her element now, Sarah waited for the girl to finish her primping.

When she was satisfied, she smiled at Sarah with what seemed like an extraordinary amount of playful trouble in her eyes, and set to introducing herself. "I'm Nelly, by the way," she giggled, raising her eyebrows and shrugging, "and I completely forgot to introduce myself."

"I'm Sarah Williams," Sarah said, wondering where this turn of events was sure to lead her.

"I know," Nelly started, "and it's absolutely wonderful to finally meet you. Put a face to a name and all that."

Sarah quite unintentionally rolled her eyes, "singing my praises is he?"

The new friend Sarah now knew as Nelly experienced a bit of shock from this remark, but quickly recovered. "Well, not exactly at first you know," she leaned into Sarah to whisper the rest of her confession, "but I think sometimes, he has a tendency for people growing on him, quite without his knowledge."

Sarah blushed at this, though she couldn't place why.

"So," said Nelly matter of factly, "tell me all about last night."


	20. New Friends

b Chapter 20 - Girl Scouts on Parade /b 

This statement itself almost sent Sarah reeling again, she was going to have to be careful with this one.

Noticing Sarah's apprehension, Nelly's expression became downcast. "Said to much, have I?" She sighed, "excuse my intrusion, I really do have a knack for sticking my mouth where it doesn't belong."

Sarah smiled at this gesture. "Actually," she said, "I hadn't even had time to think about it. You happened upon me just as I had gotten up."

"Oh! Of course," Nelly laughed, "That was the whole purpose for my visit, which I completely lost track of." She stood then and reached out for Sarah's arm. "If you'd like, I can take you to your bath house, you can-" she paused for a moment, taking in for the first time what must be Sarah's clothes, "bathe, change your... attire, and maybe we can talk after that?"

Sarah nodded happily. A shower? She was beginning to think Jareth really did live in Medieval England, and was just two hills short of a shire.

Arm in arm, Nelly led Sarah out of her room, which Sarah noted was unlocked, and down a long corridor to the right.

"The trick about navigating the castle," Nelly informed, "is always go right. Eventually you always end up somewhere."

"What if I go left?" Sarah wondered aloud, "where do I go then?"

"Oh!" Nelly smiled, "Never go left."

She pointed down the corridor to a large red wooden and golden door Sarah hadn't taken notice of before, though it was so near her own she wasn't sure how she'd missed it. Nelly continued with the explanation that now seemed so obvious.

"You see, Jareth is always left."

Sarah walked out of the large bath house a much happier woman. She had learned that the bathrooms here were operated by magic. She had no idea why, unless it was to serve as some tragically not-so-hilarious prank to be played on guests. For whatever reason, to open the bathroom door you had to first locate a golden stone in the walling of the corridor, and kindly ask the golden stone to open up. As she learned from Nelly, if the stone refused to open, which happened frequently, you simply poked it in the place it's face would be, and went on about your business.

As she exited, she looked to Nelly's approval for the outfit she had chosen.

She had never been one for dresses of any kind, but she had found a simple gown made of extraordinarily light white material with golden edging and design she assumed at least partly to be real gold.

And the fact that every outfit in the armoire fit her like a glove was both amusing and disconcerting. She, being Sarah, rationalized that it was obviously some sort of enchanted closet that only spit out clothes that fit you.

The thought that Jareth had such a keen grasp of her anatomy was not something she intended to delve any deeper into.

Nelly applauded at the sight of her, "Yes, Sarah," she said happily, "you'll fit in here very well."

For the sake of both friendship and answers, Sarah bit her tongue.

As they rounded about another right hand turn Sarah found that they were outside, encased by an ample garden full of flowers so colorful and unusual they could have been in a painting.

Nelly located a simple silver cushioned bench and sat, motioning Sarah to do the same.

"It's beautiful out here," Sarah remarked, quite taken with the surroundings. "Almost like a living water color."

Nelly nodded, "It's called Nyu li'myuni cy, which in your language would translate to 'the garden of the little princess', I believe."

Sarah could only nod as she watched what she presumed to be a dove like creature picking for seeds near the fountain.

"So," tested Nelly, "how are you finding your stay here in the Sil Elvin?"

"The what?" Sarah questioned, "This is the Underground, right? I mean -- I thought-" So Jareth had brought her all this way to save a kingdom that wasn't even his? What had he done, gone real estate hunting the minute after she left, then concocted this miserable story about how poor baby boo boo King of the Goblins had gotten himself fired? Well what was she supposed to do? Just swoop in and save the day like some sacrificial Wonder Woman? Really, it was ridiculous, the gaul of that stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, terribly enraging man that she just couldn't stop-

"Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"You just looked a little..." Nelly questioned with a simple look of understanding. An odd look, in fact, one that to Sarah seemed as if she knew a little more about Sarah's thoughts than she would have liked.

"No, please, go on. What is the Sil Elvin again?" She coughed, and attempted with all her might to sink back into the addictive thoughts of a certain Goblin King.

"It's here. It's this place." Nelly shook her head, "He really hasn't told you much, has he?"

Sarah shrugged, "All I know is that there's some rule about-" she choked back the word that had almost escaped her lips 'marrying', "-about going back to the Aboveground." she finished.

Again, Nelly smiled.

Sarah was beginning to find this uncomfortable.

"Okay," approved Nelly, "then I'll tell you for him."

"Basically," Nelly began, "A very long time ago our land was splintered into many factions. And one day, after a very terrible war, a group of kings decided that uniting the borders was the best plan of action. And so, the thirteen corners alliance was born."

Nelly paused to make sure Sarah was following. "The thirteen corners alliance selects one king every thousand years to be it's leader... Sort of it's... you would say-"

"like a President?" Sarah finished.

Nelly looked pleased. "Yes, only we call him the Lord Protector. He manages the peace and the alliances of all thirteen corners. It's a very important job."

"And you say he's elected every how long?" Sarah gaped.

"one thousand years."

"But if Jareth is running for a re-election, than that would have to make him-"

Nelly smiled, "You know, Sarah, despite his boyish good looks, Jareth is much older than he looks, at least by your Aboveground years."

"How old is he?" Sarah gushed before she could stop herself.

Nelly laughed, "tsk. tsk. Sarah. That's really none of my business."

She winked Sarah's way, "but on with the lesson. This council is made up of all the kings of the thirteen lands. There are three territories that border the Sil Elvin. The Beruitian, and Queen Taru to the East, the province of Opavia and King Euric to the North East, and Vaidil and King Hongus to the North. Vaidil is where the Sil Elvin gets most of its Goblin population, they migrate for the better wages and weather."

"Goblins aren't natural to the... Sil Elvin?"

Nelly laughed, "No, of course not. At least they weren't at first. The Sil Elvin, not surprisingly, was a kingdom of fae, like Jareth and I. There are still quite a lot of them, but I'm afraid that in these parts you won't see many. The Goblins have resided here for centuries, hence the "Goblin City" and "King of the Goblins" bit. And-" she continued, "the Goblins here are hardly as idiotic as they might have seemed on your first visit."

So it was true, Jareth had really dumbed down the battle for her.

"Oh no," Nelly corrected, "I can see what you must be thinking, the Goblins around the palace really are that -- job specific, one might say. They consist mainly of the changed children."

"You mean he really does that?" Sarah gasped.

Nelly nodded, "of course. It isn't all a fairy tale. But there is a fairly substantial upside. Most of the children that are turned here are from unwanted families, terrible situations, and the like. I mean, what kind of person wishes a child away?"

It took her awhile to understand her mistake, and when she did, she rapidly continued "The southern parts of the Sil Elvin are oceanside."

"The Underground has a beach?" Sarah grappled with this idea, and nearly laughed aloud at the image of a Goblin King on holiday, sunscreen plastered across his face, and swimming bottoms that would be, without a doubt, much too tight.

Nelly was silent for a moment, and looked almost sick. "There are loads more, but I won't bore you with their names or addresses. Basically these three members of the council we call the three kings, are very powerful men. Their lands all butt up to each other, and long ago the council entrusted a very important piece of land to one of the kings, Facor of Haan Elvin."

"Why is it so special?" Sarah asked, wondering what could be so important as to entrust to a man with a name so similar to the large snake like dog in the Never Ending Story. All she could think of at the moment was a pre-pubescent Brady shouting, "FAAAALLCCOOOOOR!"

She didn't really know the movie that well.

"No one knows except the three kings." Nelly answered, "and Facor has gone missing."

She sighed then. "They're cousins of Jareth's you see, his mother's people. And no one seems to be worried about where the King has gone except Jareth. Unfortunately, he can't make a move until he's assigned again as Lord Protector."

She stopped for a long moment to take a breath and flick a large green bug off the sleeve of her gown.

"Of course, you must be aware of your role in that respect."

Sarah nodded.

New life seemed to emerge from Nelly at that moment, and without hesitation she rushed, "So what do you think? Is it wonderful? Horrible? How do you feel, really?"

For a moment she stopped and made a face with so much excitement and anticipation that Sarah thought she might rip in two. She took a large breath and then whispered, quite loudly, in Sarah's ear, "I heard Jareth had some Blesphamene as a midnight snack! Go on, tell me everything!"

"Blesphamene?" Sarah questioned, confused. Wasn't Jareth drunk? or something?

"The same as in the peach, dear girl." Nelly gushed.

Sarah took a moment to regain her composure, as she wondered exactly how much this pretty stranger knew, and how exactly she was privy to information concerning certain peaches.

A bell rang and Nelly sprang up. "Oh, I have to be off, Sarah."

Sarah smiled dejectedly, "Well, it was nice meeting you-"

"Oh no, Nelly continued. I'll be back, I just-- I'll just be a minute." She smiled brightly and scampered off into the castle, leaving Sarah, for better or worse, alone with her thoughts.

There were so many things she hadn't had time to absorb. At the height of her questioning, her desire to work things out once and for all, she often times found herself awaking the next morning, unable to tell if what she thought had occurred had truly happened, or if it had all clouded by a dreamy haze.

One thing was for sure.

She was completely, undoubtedly, three thousand percent sure of last night's events. From the moment Jareth stumbled into her room, looking more lustful than liquored (she would just have to go ahead and erase that moment entirely) to the moment when in a moment of agony, he had declared his love for her.

And taken it away.

'You can't do that,' Sarah mused angrily to herself, 'You can't just say you loved someone, and that... well...'

Her breathing slowed to a halt as the words of last night came floating back to her.

"I thought I could do so again."

How those words haunted her now, as much as did the lingering touch she could feel on her cheek even now if she let it come.

The hot tear that had slid down her face.

What had she felt then?

What she wept for, she still wasn't sure. She passed it off as the pain of never returning home, but there was something else, something familiar and new.

"He said that he never meant to hurt me," Sarah whispered aloud to herself, her vision of the flowers cascading in the breeze beginning to blur. Inside, she finished the rest of her thought 'But it couldn't be true', she rationalized.

"He said it was all a game."

And with that, the confusion was forgotten, the need in his eyes, the feel of his hands on her body, his lips pressing so hungrily against hers, the fear in his questioning, "Am I so frightening" as if pleading with her to say no.

And if she had?

But it was all gone now, unremembered and unresolved, while the anger was reborn.

"Go and see her, Jareth" Nelly pleaded. "She's sitting right there in the garden, enjoying the sunshine, the pretty flowers, the birds tweet tweeting and all that. Yes, a good unexpected visitor is just what she needs to make the day complete."

Jareth responded to his sisters ramblings with a mere quizzical glance, and then returned to a stack of papers on his desk.

"Really now, whatever happened last night couldn't have been that terrible," she mused without thinking.

This remark certainly got his attention.

The dancing bear nearly shrieked as a quill flew at his puffy little bear head, and he was only just able to dodge it.

Really, faes were enough hot headed to handle, but royalty?

Now that was spectacularly aggravating.

As the bear complained silently, the Goblin King rose to his feet and removed his glasses.

Leaning languidly against a bookshelf he inquired, "What exactly would you know about that, Nelly dear?"

"Oh nothing," she stuttered, "Little bird told me. You know, those doorknobs are awful gossips."

He seemed unconvinced as ever.

This was really not going well.

"Indeed."

He paused for a moment, and took a stroll around the room, eyeing up and down every object he came in contact with, the most interested of all, he reserved for Nelly.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Alec's supply of Blesphamene has gotten to, would you Nelly?"

She shook her head. "No, big brother, no idea."

Nelly was a terrible liar, and Jareth knew it.

"Why would you even dream of doing such a thing?"

"Oh come on now, Jareth. What harm could possibly have come from a little-"

"Drugged stupor?" Jareth interjected. "Oh, I don't know, maybe a few hundred equally grotesque chairs, a slap or two in the face of masculinity-" he paused for a moment, choosing his words wisely, "a profession of love here or there, obviously nothing that can't be fixed by a little walk in the garden."

Nelly stood very still, shock written plainly across her delicate features.

"Oh."

"Oh indeed," snipped the Goblin King as he returned to his desk and reaffirmed his glasses, peering over them at her in a most school teacher like way he added, "I think I've had enough with meddling for the time being, Nelly."

He pointed to the door, "Now be a good girl and go mind your little toy."

As Nelly stormed out, she of course failed to notice that the papers gracing the kings royal desk were blank, and that by all accounts, he hadn't done a thing all day.

He looked back to his main object of interest as soon as he was alone.

A small gilded crystal floating at his fingertips, the impression of a young girl walking in a garden of rainbows reflected back in his eyes.

The man had an addiction, at least that much was certain.

--

avi


	21. A Walk in the Garden

Here they are – the long awaited chapters of 'Labyrinth: The Way Back'

I'm still working on finding my final notes, but this is what I have for now.

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back

Author: Aviry Nolane

Email: PG?

Comments:

Ta Da!

Every day is a little closer to being finished with this beast of a fic, but I am still far from finishing. Comments encouraged. I want to make sure that I'm doing this right – it's been so long since I've written anything.

I'd like to thank everyone from for staying interested in my project. It's because of all of you and your comments that I am continuing this epic.

Thank you again!

Enjoy!

Chapter 21 – A walk in the Garden

The days passed by then, as they sometimes do, each melting into another until there existed no calculable boundary between them. Time seemed to move differently here, almost like a living being, sometimes it ticked along faster, and others slow and lazily.

Today, it was lazy.

Life had become easier for Sarah with the disappearance of a certain Goblin King from her daily interactions. Easier being the understatement of a century.

She had not seen him once since that night when he wandered into her room seeking to satiate a craving Sarah had no desire to fulfill. It was out of shock, she reasoned, that she had resisted fulfilling her own heart's desire that night, which involved her brass hairbrush and his face.

'Luckily,' Sarah reminded herself, 'for him.'

No, she had now accustomed herself to a much more blissful position in the King's Underground. One of happy-go-lucky denial. It was nothing short of the ordinary for Sarah, and had always served her well before.

Sarah's reasoning abilities had kicked in soon after their… encounter. And she now believed, if not wholeheartedly, that while Jareth (Abominable King of the Goblins) may have been – completely is – a merciless and cold demi-God of pure evil, these three kings of wherever were probably very rational, sensible, and most likely completely understanding of her situation. Most likely.

Nelly had given up on the topic of Jareth and all things relative, and seemed to be treating Sarah as if she were on some kind of extended holiday instead of captive against her will. All things considered, Sarah preferred things this way. Together they spent their days roaming the seemingly endless garden and speaking of more pleasant topics.

Nelly could simply not get enough of hearing about the Aboveground. Everything astonished her to the point of senseless giggling. Especially the subjects of driving cars, television and microwaves.

Sarah had been truly enjoying her time spent with Nelly these last few, well, however long, and was still at a loss to explain how someone so innocent and wholly pure could exist in a world so dark as the Underground.

"You know, Sarah" Nelly thought aloud as the pair made their way through a Pollyspeckle patch one afternoon, "I believe you may be the only friend I've ever had."

Sarah nearly fell over at these words, and leaned up from where she had been petting a sleeping Pollyspeckle on the path. "Nelly, how can that be possible? You're such a lovely girl. You must have had friends before me."

Nelly's brow knotted in frustration as she lifted her hand to shield the sunlight from her eyes. "No," she affirmed after a moment, "I never really have."

She flounced her skirts at this and seated herself, in all her finery, atop a mossy stone and tried to free her ankle from a particularly clingy baby flower as it wept.

"You know, aside from my brothers and my husband, I've never really had anyone to talk to about anything. Least of all how uncomfortable my bodice is, or what nincompoops men are." She laughed aloud now, still enamored with the beautifully funny words Sarah had taught her from back home.

"I didn't know you had any brothers, Nelly." Sarah announced, all too excited that for once the conversation had turned to Nelly's past in the Underground and not her own.

"Yes, two," She giggled back, "but both older and very alike. You know, when I was younger, before I had learned any magic at all, they, and my cousin, used to play the worst pranks on me."

"Like what?" Sarah asked openly.

"Well," she began, scooting closer, "They had convinced me that I had learned to read minds, when all along they had simply enchanted everything in my garden to speak ill of me. Telling me my hair was flat and my bottom was too round and that I had a fig for a nose. Things like that."

Sarah laughed along, "that's awful!" She proclaimed.

"Don't I know it!" Nelly bursted, "I ran straight to my father and told him what happened and they were sentenced to mop the floors for weeks."

She was lost then in a silent moment, remembering. Sarah simply watched as the light of reverie swept through Nelly's eyes, as brief as a dream, and then washed away.

"My father died soon after that though, some say it was of a broken heart." She looked straight up at Sarah as she spoke these words, "You know he only lived two hundred years after my mother died."

"I bet she was a beautiful woman," Sarah said gently, placing a hand on the place she believed Nelly's blue satin clad knee to be.

"I assume she was," Nelly brightened at these simple words, "Though I never met her myself. She died giving me life, and for that much I will always love her." She frowned again now, "though it would have been nice to have another woman around as I grew up."

Nelly's face lit up once again, her moods always as changeable as the sky above, "but now I have you to be my friend, after all. And you and I will be like sisters forever."

Forever.

Sarah dodged the bullet almost quite completely, "You didn't go to school, then?" she asked as she placed herself carefully upon the only other object she trusted herself to sit on, a large wooden swing already in motion behind her.

"I was taught by my father, mostly. And when I did finally meet fae women my own age," She paused, thinking, "Well, I suppose I was horrified."

They both laughed then, and Sarah found it nearly impossible to remain seated upon the log seat of her swing as it chortled along.

"Well," said Nelly as she sprang to her feet, finally freed of the now sleeping Pollyspeckle, "I suppose I should go start dinner, after all," she winked, "nothing seems to get done around here without me."

Sarah nodded, and Nelly spoke on, "you don't mind if I leave you here, do you?"

"No," Sarah replied lazily, "I think I've had enough walking for one day. I think I'll just sit here and rest."

With that Nelly was gone amidst a bursting of petals that floated to the ground where they evaporated.

'I have got to get used to that' Sarah mused inwardly as she allowed the swing to sway her back and forth. 'It really is just as shocking every time.'

Unfortunately, Sarah had not given quite enough thought to where she was or whose company she was currently in. Perhaps she would have thought better of the term 'shocking' if she had.

After bidding farewell to her swing Sarah had another urgent problem to address. She wasn't exactly sure how to return to her room.

'Hmm' she mumbled to herself as she crossed the bridge that had led to the garden, "I wonder, which way now?"

She looked left, and then right, and then left again. Yes, this corridor was no different than any she had encountered in the Labyrinth. They all stretched on seemingly forever and looked identical in each direction.

"Well, feet," Sarah spoke aloud, as she had always had an annoying habit of speaking to herself in the third, fourth or fifth person, "I think we'll go left."

Sarah was never an exceptionally good listener.


	22. Sunset

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back

Author: Aviry Nolane

Email: anyone would like to become my new proofreader, the position is available. If you love this fic, then I would love your help in finishing it. I will send all chapters to the editor first, and to make it easy, I am not looking for an English expert by any means. Just someone who can say honestly if they like it or not, and if they think it fits the body so far.

You're fabulous!

And now, on with the show –

Chapter 22 - Sunset

It only took one left turn to undo all the rights Sarah had taken in the last few days.

If she turned on purpose or not, I doubt she could even tell you, but the outcome, no matter the desire, was inevitably the same.

Almost at once Sarah found herself in an all too familiar stone foyer, one long solitary balcony window catching the onslaught of nightfall and the beams of multicolored light illuminating one all too familiar form.

Yes, familiar though it was, comforting would just not be a good descriptor.

Sarah, never one to miss an opportunity, was all too quickly quite in her element. The recent encounters with her jailer, soon to be husband or executioner, all came tumbling back in a frighteningly organized way. They all seemed too happy to equate to one single solitary emotion, drive, passion and force: pure unadulterated hatred.

She moved forward as quickly as her skirts would allow, which was harrowing in on nearly a mild shopping mall pace, and before she had a chance to think of what or how to say any of the seething delirious thoughts rolling around in her head, the King spoke first.

He has a knack for it, that much is certain.

His back still to her, he cleared his throat and began in what seemed like a voice lacking the loathsome arrogance Sarah knew.

"The war is raging, Sarah." He said simply, and Sarah, for once, found herself quite without a retort.

She moved next to him then, careful to stay distant from the gloved hand which tapped an unheard melody on the crumbling stone windowsill.

She looked to where the Labyrinth lay spread out beneath her, and in the light of the sunset it seemed almost to be falling asleep as she watched. The sight alone took her breath away, not to mention any words or thought of her current company.

The ground below twisted and turned, not menacingly as she remembered, but like an old, sloping countryside. The reds and blues of the sunlight falling peacefully on it's ins and outs, creating soft resonant shadows which all too keenly stirred her inner romantic. She squinted to see better the basin of earth below, the milling of the tiny city even slowing now as the sun slipped gently into the sparkling warm horizon.

When he spoke again Sarah felt as if being awoken from a dream she was not yet ready to leave, and so she kept her gaze upon the magical feat of nature below.

"The war is not yours alone, Sarah." He murmered, "Nor is it mine."

Sarah's thoughts slowed, thankful she was not being asked to speak, and he continued.

"The war belongs to all you see before you. This land, these people, this magic which ties it all together." She felt him move before she heard it, but made no effort to alert him to her understanding. Again, she focused on the hills.

"They may not seem like much to you, but they are all that I have. And you may not understand or choose to, but the existence of everything you now see, inside and out, now depends on you and you alone."

She swallowed.

"There is a danger here, one much greater than I have ever seemed to you. A dangerous force that would have all of the Underground, all that is and ever will be, a pit of destruction. For magic to die and blood to reign, and," he took a moment and Sarah could feel the weight of his breath now rustle in her hair, "for you to die as well."

The last beam of sunlight now slipped below the horizon and the Labyrinth fell asleep below her. She turned, knowing full well, but still surprised when she found herself face to face with the King of the Goblins.

"I can't let it end this way, Sarah," he nearly whispered, and Sarah found herself once again unmistakably caught in his gaze. Here he was before her, the Evil King of her worst nightmares, pleading with her for something she still wasn't quite sure of.

But his eyes, his eyes seemed to know it all, and she thought maybe if she could stare into them long enough, she would find her truth inside them.

'What do you want, Jareth?' She questioned inside, 'What can I possibly do for you?'

And with this he smiled, and seemed to move in closer, though Sarah could not be sure if he had in fact moved at all.

"My pet," he levied, "I told you long ago."

Sarah remained glued to his gaze as it changed, melted, transformed, so much so that she barely heard his words and if she did, they didn't register.

It was as if his eyes were translating pictures instead of colors, words instead of thoughts, she could feel it, sweeping through her, feel the loneliness that haunted him, she could feel the anguish he felt, if only for a moment.

She reached up then, barely conscious of her movements, wondering inside if as a fae his flesh would now be as icy and cold as she expected.

Her fingertips brushed lightly against his temple, and she let them sink slowly down his cheek, his jaw tightening as she perused the answer to her question.

She felt herself urging him towards her then, the pools of his vision now so changeable that she found it nearly impossible to tell what she saw there.

He had slumped forward so that they were eye to eye when she finally found her words.

"Jareth," she whispered softly, "you're so warm."

His eyes snapped shut then as if she had struck him, and he seemed to release into her touch. At that moment, she wasn't sure what happened, who had moved, who had leaned in, whose lips brushed against whose.

But she felt him, she felt the warmth of his lips graze her own, and she knew what had brought her here to this place with him.

Time spun then and she found the understanding of her mission here. There was no compromise. She would be his or they would both die.

She shuddered at the thought of such a consequence, of such a promise to be asked, of such a man to ask of it.

And in that moment he was gone, he had jumped so far backwards that Sarah was frozen at the idea of how one could move so fast in such little time.

He turned then, his back icy cold to her once more and Sarah felt her limbs regaining balance. He said something to himself then Sarah could only place as a curse, though she understood no meaning in it.

"Jareth," she questioned herself more with the word than him, "Jareth, I didn't mean to-"

Again, she felt him move before she saw it.

His wrist raised, his fingertips flicked, and she found herself once again in her room, a locked door her only companion.


	23. Here Comes Trouble

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back

Author: Aviry Nolane

Email: you again for reading! Comment please! It makes my day!

Chapter 23 – Here comes Trouble

She lay awake all night under a cloud of confusion.

Truth be told, she was exhausted. Tonight she had cried for the first time since she had ended up in Jareth's Labyrinth for a second time.

She had cried for everything and everyone she knew and loved, for herself, for Bill, for the life she now had very little hope of returning to. She cried for her mother, for Toby, and for a stupid wish she had made when she was fifteen and remarkably stupid.

Truth be told, she cried for him too, though she didn't know why. She seemed to need to cry for everyone and everything that had touched her, and though he had done so in such a terrible way, she could not help feeling that he always would be and in fact always was, a part of her.

"I don't want to die," she said aloud to no one, "but if I stay here, I die either way."

'And,' she added mentally, 'according to Jareth, I die if I leave.'

Death was not seeming like the best of options to Sarah, as it never had before in the Underground, so instead she chose Door 4. The still elusive option of not-dying and not ending up some kind of royal concubine.

And so she thought herself into circles until her eyelids became so heavy that they pushed her into yet another night of dreamless sleep as the sun rose on the Labyrinth.

It wasn't as if the thought had never entered his mind before. It had, dozens of times in the past, perhaps even more. He had acted on his frustrations at first.

Being the kind of man he was had always gained him the affections of many a courtier.

He had embraced them all, women who reminded him of his darkness, of his passion, of his power.

He had felt dominant with them all, in control, the way he imagined he would have felt possessing her.

Her.

He had gone and thought it. He shook his head, as if trying to shake the offensive thought out to where it could not be remembered. When his plan did little to succeed but make his hair a fizzy mess, he tried to drown it in wine instead.

Unfortunately, all the wine did was cause him to remember.

Though he hadn't the stomach to think of it at the time, he of course realized that he knew all along, as he knew now, that with every one of them he had been trying to replace them with a memory of someone else, someone distant.

His Sarah, the woman he could never touch.

And hadn't it been her now and her all along that had evaded him, cursed him, sworn she would never be his?

He questioned the dancing bear on this subject, who remained as stoic as earlier, and he had no choice but to continue his lone meanderings.

She had foiled him from the start with her big doe eyes, pushed him to his limits and made him believe that maybe somehow she could feel something for him more than hatred. That she could see him as anything but a kidnapper of children and a monster.

He closed his eyes now, remembering the sweet feel of her mouth on his, her lips anticipating his every move, the soft heat rising from her when he had kissed her in the Aboveground.

Hadn't she been cruel then?

Hadn't she been able to see her own wickedness in that moment, in a world away from his?

He wanted her. He was sure of that now – as he had wanted her that night when they played the roles of George and Sarah so well, when she had climbed atop him in her peach fuzz room, and as he had wanted her when she was but a child.

She was intoxicating, his Sarah.

But he did not love her, and he knew this in his head as strongly as his body knew he needed her.

He wanted her to be his because she had denied him as no other woman ever could. And it was because of this that he vowed in his throne room only hours ago, as she stood only yards away, that he would never take her.

For all her cruelty, Sarah was an innocent. She embodied all that was good and bbeautiful in any world, above or below.

And he knew now what he had never known before. That he could never defile such a treasure, that it was something to be kept safely away from him.

He wanted her because she didn't want him, but moreso he respected her because she would not trust him.

'Yes,' he pledged to himself as the final droplets of wine slid towards him, 'I know what I will do with my darling Sarah.'

After all, who could ever trust such a man as he?


	24. Nevermind

Here they are – the long awaited chapters of 'Labyrinth: The Way Back'

I'm still working on finding my final notes, but this is what I have for now.

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back

Author: Aviry Nolane

Email: PG?

Comments:

Ta Da!

Every day is a little closer to being finished with this beast of a fic, but I am still far from finishing. Comments encouraged. I want to make sure that I'm doing this right – it's been so long since I've written anything.

Enjoy!

Chapter 21 – A walk in the Garden

The days passed by then, as they sometimes do, each melting into another until there existed no calculable boundary between them. Time seemed to move differently here, almost like a living being, sometimes it ticked along faster, and others slow and lazily.

Today, it was lazy.

Life had become easier for Sarah with the disappearance of a certain Goblin King from her daily interactions. Easier being the understatement of a century.

She had not seen him once since that night when he wandered into her room seeking to satiate a craving Sarah had no desire to fulfill. It was out of shock, she reasoned, that she had resisted fulfilling her own heart's desire that night, which involved her brass hairbrush and his face.

'Luckily,' Sarah reminded herself, 'for him.'

No, she had now accustomed herself to a much more blissful position in the King's Underground. One of happy-go-lucky denial. It was nothing short of the ordinary for Sarah, and had always served her well before.

Sarah's reasoning abilities had kicked in soon after their… encounter. And she now believed, if not wholeheartedly, that while Jareth (Abominable King of the Goblins) may have been – completely is – a merciless and cold demi-God of pure evil, these three kings of wherever were probably very rational, sensible, and most likely completely understanding of her situation. Most likely.

Nelly had given up on the topic of Jareth and all things relative, and seemed to be treating Sarah as if she were on some kind of extended holiday instead of captive against her will. All things considered, Sarah preferred things this way. Together they spent their days roaming the seemingly endless garden and speaking of more pleasant topics.

Nelly could simply not get enough of hearing about the Aboveground. Everything astonished her to the point of senseless giggling. Especially the subjects of driving cars, television and microwaves.

Sarah had been truly enjoying her time spent with Nelly these last few, well, however long, and was still at a loss to explain how someone so innocent and wholly pure could exist in a world so dark as the Underground.

"You know, Sarah" Nelly thought aloud as the pair made their way through a Pollyspeckle patch one afternoon, "I believe you may be the only friend I've ever had."

Sarah nearly fell over at these words, and leaned up from where she had been petting a sleeping Pollyspeckle on the path. "Nelly, how can that be possible? You're such a lovely girl. You must have had friends before me."

Nelly's brow knotted in frustration as she lifted her hand to shield the sunlight from her eyes. "No," she affirmed after a moment, "I never really have."

She flounced her skirts at this and seated herself, in all her finery, atop a mossy stone and tried to free her ankle from a particularly clingy baby flower as it wept.

"You know, aside from my brothers and my husband, I've never really had anyone to talk to about anything. Least of all how uncomfortable my bodice is, or what nincompoops men are." She laughed aloud now, still enamored with the beautifully funny words Sarah had taught her from back home.

"I didn't know you had any brothers, Nelly." Sarah announced, all too excited that for once the conversation had turned to Nelly's past in the Underground and not her own.

"Yes, two," She giggled back, "but both older and very alike. You know, when I was younger, before I had learned any magic at all, they, and my cousin, used to play the worst pranks on me."

"Like what?" Sarah asked openly.

"Well," she began, scooting closer, "They had convinced me that I had learned to read minds, when all along they had simply enchanted everything in my garden to speak ill of me. Telling me my hair was flat and my bottom was too round and that I had a fig for a nose. Things like that."

Sarah laughed along, "that's awful!" She proclaimed.

"Don't I know it!" Nelly bursted, "I ran straight to my father and told him what happened and they were sentenced to mop the floors for weeks."

She was lost then in a silent moment, remembering. Sarah simply watched as the light of reverie swept through Nelly's eyes, as brief as a dream, and then washed away.

"My father died soon after that though, some say it was of a broken heart." She looked straight up at Sarah as she spoke these words, "You know he only lived two hundred years after my mother died."

"I bet she was a beautiful woman," Sarah said gently, placing a hand on the place she believed Nelly's blue satin clad knee to be.

"I assume she was," Nelly brightened at these simple words, "Though I never met her myself. She died giving me life, and for that much I will always love her." She frowned again now, "though it would have been nice to have another woman around as I grew up."

Nelly's face lit up once again, her moods always as changeable as the sky above, "but now I have you to be my friend, after all. And you and I will be like sisters forever."

Forever.

Sarah dodged the bullet almost quite completely, "You didn't go to school, then?" she asked as she placed herself carefully upon the only other object she trusted herself to sit on, a large wooden swing already in motion behind her.

"I was taught by my father, mostly. And when I did finally meet fae women my own age," She paused, thinking, "Well, I suppose I was horrified."

They both laughed then, and Sarah found it nearly impossible to remain seated upon the log seat of her swing as it chortled along.

"Well," said Nelly as she sprang to her feet, finally freed of the now sleeping Pollyspeckle, "I suppose I should go start dinner, after all," she winked, "nothing seems to get done around here without me."

Sarah nodded, and Nelly spoke on, "you don't mind if I leave you here, do you?"

"No," Sarah replied lazily, "I think I've had enough walking for one day. I think I'll just sit here and rest."

With that Nelly was gone amidst a bursting of petals that floated to the ground where they evaporated.

'I have got to get used to that' Sarah mused inwardly as she allowed the swing to sway her back and forth. 'It really is just as shocking every time.'

Unfortunately, Sarah had not given quite enough thought to where she was or whose company she was currently in. Perhaps she would have thought better of the term 'shocking' if she had.

After bidding farewell to her swing Sarah had another urgent problem to address. She wasn't exactly sure how to return to her room.

'Hmm' she mumbled to herself as she crossed the bridge that had led to the garden, "I wonder, which way now?"

She looked left, and then right, and then left again. Yes, this corridor was no different than any she had encountered in the Labyrinth. They all stretched on seemingly forever and looked identical in each direction.

"Well, feet," Sarah spoke aloud, as she had always had an annoying habit of speaking to herself in the third, fourth or fifth person, "I think we'll go left."

Sarah was never an exceptionally good listener.

Chapter 22 - Sunset

It only took one left turn to undo all the rights Sarah had taken in the last few days.

If she turned on purpose or not, I doubt she could even tell you, but the outcome, no matter the desire, was inevitably the same.

Almost at once Sarah found herself in an all too familiar stone foyer, one long solitary balcony window catching the onslaught of nightfall and the beams of multicolored light illuminating one all too familiar form.

Yes, familiar though it was, comforting would just not be a good descriptor.

Sarah, never one to miss an opportunity, was all too quickly quite in her element. The recent encounters with her jailer, soon to be husband or executioner, all came tumbling back in a frighteningly organized way. They all seemed too happy to equate to one single solitary emotion, drive, passion and force: pure unadulterated hatred.

She moved forward as quickly as her skirts would allow, which was harrowing in on nearly a mild shopping mall pace, and before she had a chance to think of what or how to say any of the seething delirious thoughts rolling around in her head, the King spoke first.

He has a knack for it, that much is certain.

His back still to her, he cleared his throat and began in what seemed like a voice lacking the loathsome arrogance Sarah knew.

"The war is raging, Sarah." He said simply, and Sarah, for once, found herself quite without a retort.

She moved next to him then, careful to stay distant from the gloved hand which tapped an unheard melody on the crumbling stone windowsill.

She looked to where the Labyrinth lay spread out beneath her, and in the light of the sunset it seemed almost to be falling asleep as she watched. The sight alone took her breath away, not to mention any words or thought of her current company.

The ground below twisted and turned, not menacingly as she remembered, but like an old, sloping countryside. The reds and blues of the sunlight falling peacefully on it's ins and outs, creating soft resonant shadows which all too keenly stirred her inner romantic. She squinted to see better the basin of earth below, the milling of the tiny city even slowing now as the sun slipped gently into the sparkling warm horizon.

When he spoke again Sarah felt as if being awoken from a dream she was not yet ready to leave, and so she kept her gaze upon the magical feat of nature below.

"The war is not yours alone, Sarah." He murmered, "Nor is it mine."

Sarah's thoughts slowed, thankful she was not being asked to speak, and he continued.

"The war belongs to all you see before you. This land, these people, this magic which ties it all together." She felt him move before she heard it, but made no effort to alert him to her understanding. Again, she focused on the hills.

"They may not seem like much to you, but they are all that I have. And you may not understand or choose to, but the existence of everything you now see, inside and out, now depends on you and you alone."

She swallowed.

"There is a danger here, one much greater than I have ever seemed to you. A dangerous force that would have all of the Underground, all that is and ever will be, a pit of destruction. For magic to die and blood to reign, and," he took a moment and Sarah could feel the weight of his breath now rustle in her hair, "for you to die as well."

The last beam of sunlight now slipped below the horizon and the Labyrinth fell asleep below her. She turned, knowing full well, but still surprised when she found herself face to face with the King of the Goblins.

"I can't let it end this way, Sarah," he nearly whispered, and Sarah found herself once again unmistakably caught in his gaze. Here he was before her, the Evil King of her worst nightmares, pleading with her for something she still wasn't quite sure of.

But his eyes, his eyes seemed to know it all, and she thought maybe if she could stare into them long enough, she would find her truth inside them.

'What do you want, Jareth?' She questioned inside, 'What can I possibly do for you?'

And with this he smiled, and seemed to move in closer, though Sarah could not be sure if he had in fact moved at all.

"My pet," he levied, "I told you long ago."

Sarah remained glued to his gaze as it changed, melted, transformed, so much so that she barely heard his words and if she did, they didn't register.

It was as if his eyes were translating pictures instead of colors, words instead of thoughts, she could feel it, sweeping through her, feel the loneliness that haunted him, she could feel the anguish he felt, if only for a moment.

She reached up then, barely conscious of her movements, wondering inside if as a fae his flesh would now be as icy and cold as she expected.

Her fingertips brushed lightly against his temple, and she let them sink slowly down his cheek, his jaw tightening as she perused the answer to her question.

She felt herself urging him towards her then, the pools of his vision now so changeable that she found it nearly impossible to tell what she saw there.

He had slumped forward so that they were eye to eye when she finally found her words.

"Jareth," she whispered softly, "you're so warm."

His eyes snapped shut then as if she had struck him, and he seemed to release into her touch. At that moment, she wasn't sure what happened, who had moved, who had leaned in, whose lips brushed against whose.

But she felt him, she felt the warmth of his lips graze her own, and she knew what had brought her here to this place with him.

Time spun then and she found the understanding of her mission here. There was no compromise. She would be his or they would both die.

She shuddered at the thought of such a consequence, of such a promise to be asked, of such a man to ask of it.

And in that moment he was gone, he had jumped so far backwards that Sarah was frozen at the idea of how one could move so fast in such little time.

He turned then, his back icy cold to her once more and Sarah felt her limbs regaining balance. He said something to himself then Sarah could only place as a curse, though she understood no meaning in it.

"Jareth," she questioned herself more with the word than him, "Jareth, I didn't mean to-"

Again, she felt him move before she saw it.

His wrist raised, his fingertips flicked, and she found herself once again in her room, a locked door her only companion.

Chapter 23 – Here comes Trouble

She lay awake all night under a cloud of confusion.

Truth be told, she was exhausted. Tonight she had cried for the first time since she had ended up in Jareth's Labyrinth for a second time.

She had cried for everything and everyone she knew and loved, for herself, for Bill, for the life she now had very little hope of returning to. She cried for her mother, for Toby, and for a stupid wish she had made when she was fifteen and remarkably stupid.

Truth be told, she cried for him too, though she didn't know why. She seemed to need to cry for everyone and everything that had touched her, and though he had done so in such a terrible way, she could not help feeling that he always would be and in fact always was, a part of her.

"I don't want to die," she said aloud to no one, "but if I stay here, I die either way."

'And,' she added mentally, 'according to Jareth, I die if I leave.'

Death was not seeming like the best of options to Sarah, as it never had before in the Underground, so instead she chose Door 4. The still elusive option of not-dying and not ending up some kind of royal concubine.

And so she thought herself into circles until her eyelids became so heavy that they pushed her into yet another night of dreamless sleep as the sun rose on the Labyrinth.

It wasn't as if the thought had never entered his mind before. It had, dozens of times in the past, perhaps even more. He had acted on his frustrations at first.

Being the kind of man he was had always gained him the affections of many a courtier.

He had embraced them all, women who reminded him of his darkness, of his passion, of his power.

He had felt dominant with them all, in control, the way he imagined he would have felt possessing her.

Her.

He had gone and thought it. He shook his head, as if trying to shake the offensive thought out to where it could not be remembered. When his plan did little to succeed but make his hair a fizzy mess, he tried to drown it in wine instead.

Unfortunately, all the wine did was cause him to remember.

Though he hadn't the stomach to think of it at the time, he of course realized that he knew all along, as he knew now, that with every one of them he had been trying to replace them with a memory of someone else, someone distant.

His Sarah, the woman he could never touch.

And hadn't it been her now and her all along that had evaded him, cursed him, sworn she would never be his?

He questioned the dancing bear on this subject, who remained as stoic as earlier, and he had no choice but to continue his lone meanderings.

She had foiled him from the start with her big doe eyes, pushed him to his limits and made him believe that maybe somehow she could feel something for him more than hatred. That she could see him as anything but a kidnapper of children and a monster.

He closed his eyes now, remembering the sweet feel of her mouth on his, her lips anticipating his every move, the soft heat rising from her when he had kissed her in the Aboveground.

Hadn't she been cruel then?

Hadn't she been able to see her own wickedness in that moment, in a world away from his?

He wanted her. He was sure of that now – as he had wanted her that night when they played the roles of George and Sarah so well, when she had climbed atop him in her peach fuzz room, and as he had wanted her when she was but a child.

She was intoxicating, his Sarah.

But he did not love her, and he knew this in his head as strongly as his body knew he needed her.

He wanted her to be his because she had denied him as no other woman ever could. And it was because of this that he vowed in his throne room only hours ago, as she stood only yards away, that he would never take her.

For all her cruelty, Sarah was an innocent. She embodied all that was good and bbeautiful in any world, above or below.

And he knew now what he had never known before. That he could never defile such a treasure, that it was something to be kept safely away from him.

He wanted her because she didn't want him, but moreso he respected her because she would not trust him.

'Yes,' he pledged to himself as the final droplets of wine slid towards him, 'I know what I will do with my darling Sarah.'

After all, who could ever trust such a man as he?

Chapter 24 – Nevermind.

The hours slipped by and Sarah was beginning to wonder if now he had sent Nelly away to punish her.

'He wouldn't do that' She argued herself only to become more grief stricken by realizing she had no idea what Jareth would or would not do. Ever.

Especially now.

At long last there was a turning and a clinking of the doorknob. Sarah held her breath in anticipation.

She breathed a sigh of relief when the face of Nelly, quite possibly the only friend she had left in the world, swung her head around the frame.

"Nelly!" Sarah shrieked so loudly that she almost fell straight out of bed, causing the furniture to plug it's ears in disgust.

The bed, having been kept up all night by her rampage of emotions said a quiet prayer that soon the girl might be leaving and that it could get on with it's rest.

The rest of the room, door included, shouted it's agreement.

"Shh!" Nelly hissed at the vanity as she held Sarah in her arms. Sarah looked up from the shoulder of Nelly's gown to see her scolding an ottoman back in place.

"Nelly?" Sarah asked.

'The last thing I need right now is my only friend going all crack-pot and asking the wardrobe for relationship advice.' She mused inwardly, 'she's already prettier than me, she doesn't need to be crazier too.'

"Good to know you still have a sense of humor, Sarah," Nelly smiled. "Now tell me everything about last night."

Sarah sank back into an armchair while making a mental note that Nelly could read her mind at a moment's notice and decided not to lie as Nelly made herself at home on a plush lounger.

Sarah shrugged. "There really isn't much to tell, the more I think about it. Jar-" She corrected herself, "the King is just more confusing by the day."

'The hour even,' she added silently.

"I don't get it, Nelly." She announced, "I feel like there's something he's not telling me, some piece of the puzzle that I'm missing. I just don't know what."

"You think he's keeping something from you?" Nelly asked, as she fidgeted somewhat uncomfortably in her seat.

"I know there is. I just know it." She sighed, "wouldn't be the first time, you know."

Nelly smiled again, which raised Sarah's spirits more than she would have liked. Sarah always had enjoyed a good sulk, after all.

"Jareth always was one for secrets, you know. Always has been." She paused to move a stray strand of gossamer hair out of her eyes, "He's not exactly the most open or available man you'll ever meet-"

She leaned forward now, eyes full of concern, "but he is a good man, Sarah. I promise you."

Sarah would have rolled her eyes if it hadn't seemed to mean so much to Nelly, so she closed them instead.

"Please, Sarah," Nelly went on, "he'll be a good husband to you. He's fair, honest, and cares deeply about you."

Nevermind that exactly zero percent of what the obviously confused nymph had said about Jareth seemed to remotely fit the model, Nelly apparently didn't know Jareth well – or at all – Sarah was still pinned to the "good husband" part of the conversation.

"Oh, no!" Nelly sang out, "I've said too much again haven't I?" She shook her head so sadly that Sarah wanted to reach out to her, "I'm always doing that. Always! Putting my big mouth where my foot goes."

Sarah was about to correct her when they were stopped by a knocking at the door. Sarah thanked her lucky stars that the conversation was over for good.

And she was close, but a moment too soon.

For when the door opened yet another omen of her impending death was hustled toward her. "Miss Sarah?"

A small goblin female called out from under the massive heap of fabric she carried above her.

"Your wedding dress is here, would you like to try it on?"

With that Sarah rose and stalked out the door, ignoring the fact that she nearly trampled the poor goblin girl and Nelly's pleas.

Chapter 25 – Bedfellows

She turned left several times before she felt his presence looming nearby, the same way you can tell a person's aftershave or what type of perfume and old lady wears hours after they've left the supermarket. The feeling of Jareth invaded space, claimed it, left it's mark.

She hesitated before entering what she was sure must be his bedroom.

"It's like handing a loaded gun to a convict" She said to herself. "Maybe even worse."

The doorknob agreed with her wholeheartedly and was just broaching on the subject of minding one's own business when it realized she couldn't hear it.

Sulking, it went back to it's work.

'Pity I wasn't locked' It thought to itself.

'Don't I want answers?' She questioned silently, 'Well, of course I do… but, do I want to go in?'

Nevermind that she had absolutely no idea what to do when she entered, plans had sort of become a passing fancy lately.

As she reasoned the pros and cons of the situation she noticed the detailing on the door she stood before. 'Yes, it must be his room,' she quipped, 'so like him. It screams look at me and I'm not even inside yet. Figures.'

The door was composed of what looked to Sarah like pure gold and silver, and covered in what she took to be the language of the fae people, though she couldn't read a word of it. There was a picture as well, of a large hawk-like bird with ruby eyes flying into a golden sun.

Sarah took a deep breath.

As if any breath could be deep enough to prepare her for what she saw inside.

The door swung open to reveal… well, Jareth.

It was Jareth all right. Naked.

And not alone.

He was in the very comfortable, very sweaty company of what looked to be a very leggy red headed friend.

'They're… Oh my God.' Sarah choked back a scream as the soundtrack began.

'Why can't I move?' She roared inside, 'Move legs, move!'

But there was no hope for Sarah, who could not help but remain motionless and agape at the scene before her. Fortunately, it seemed the next move was not hers at all.

"Who is there?" piped the red-headed harlot, "is someone there?"

Sarah's blood ran cold in her veins, though her legs would still not respond to brain signals.

The girl sat up from her position on the – 'Oh please don't think about it' – form still on the bed, and turned to face Sarah in all her emotional nudity.

'Which,' Sarah noted, 'does nothing to rival hers.'

"I-I-I'm so sorry," she managed to stammer, backing out into the corridor again.

The girl just smiled an waved, "No problem, honey," was the only reply Sarah received as she felt the door click back into place.

And with that she ran, not knowing when or where she turned or how far she had gone before she heard the scurrying of goblins in the hallway before her. She ducked inside the first room she saw and slumped to the ground, holding her head in her hands so that her hair became a protective halo around her.

'I can't believe it' she thought to herself, breathing deeply to stop herself from screaming or crying, she was still unsure which.

And then, something inside of her broke down until she knew exactly how she felt. She was… well, she was hurt.

Hurt?

"I just--" she stammered to no one, "how could he?"

"How could he what, love?"

Sarah stopped breathing. Again. If she kept this up she was in a fair way to develop heart problems.

'This is impossible,' Sarah reminded herself, 'to end up in here again? Oh, no. no. no. no.'

She looked up.

And was greeted by yet another surprise.

"Sarah, close your mouth please, it's impolite to stare."

The still dripping form of the Goblin King leaned casually against a large wooden bedpost, clad only in a black silken robe that Sarah noted left very little to the imagination when he moved as he was moving now, swaying back and forth, one hand on his chin as if to scold her.

He did not look happy.

She stood, it was easier to remain free of distraction from a higher vantage point, or so she thought.

"But you, but – well, weren't you just-" Sarah was at a loss for words yet again, though it seemed the King of the Underground never was.

"Showering?" He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow in her direction, "Why yes, Sarah. I was. Thank you for noticing. Now,"

He took a step forward. If she had seen anything but cold seething hatred in him last night, it was all a dim memory now. It seemed the Goblin King was back.

He took another step closer, now a scarce arm's length away from a still very confused Sarah.

"Can we take care of whatever business is troubling you so I can get on with my morning?" The mask was back, and the glare only seemed to be getting worse.

'How' Sarah wondered, losing track for a moment, 'does his hair stay like that?'

She shook her head back to the situation, "but I saw you," she stated, dumbfounded.

He laughed at this. "Yes, nearly."

"No, I don't mean-"

He took another step.

'Oh, no.' Sarah thought to herself, 'This is getting bad.'

"Sarah," he spat, "if you have anything of importance to say please say it now or get out. I don't have all day to romp around undressed with you."

He threw his hands in the air as he heard his own words, and Sarah was surprised to see that they were still encased in his ageless leather gloves.

She was thinking through the implications of his nightly fashion accessories when she realized he was still staring at her, looking bored, hands on his hips, waiting to speak as always.

"Round, pet."

"I'm sorry, what?" she gaped.

"Go and stay gone, or stay and turn round."

She turned, not knowing what else to do in such a situation and could not help laughing to herself as she did so.

'What are we now, Goblin King?" She mocked inwardly, 'shy?'

"Not in the least, pet. Turn around if you like." He laughed above her blushing, "If you can trust yourself with me, that is."

She was mortified when she heard the robe fall to the floor, but was altogether determined not to let it show.

"That's the problem with you, Goblin Kings," she snipped back, "I find it difficult to trust you with anyone."

Her only response was a chuckle from an area of the room which seemed way too close for comfort.

"You know, Jareth," she began.

"Oh, I'm Jareth again, am I?"

She felt his hands close in over her shoulders. She hoped above all things that he was wearing clothes behind her. Even what he thought of as clothing would suffice at this point.

"I suppose so, yes," she answered calmly.

He slid his hands slowly down her arms then, and when they reached her waist his grip grew more firm.

"Really, Pet, you're so hard to keep track of these days. One day I'm evil, the next I'm – What am I the next day, Sarah? Enlighten me."

With that he spun her around to face him so quickly that she felt lightheaded. The door clicked firmly behind her as he shoved her up against it's cold, unforgiving form.

She sighed, relieved when she found Jareth was back in his tunic shirt and pants, though her relief didn't last long when she looked back up to face her Goblin King.

The door was not the only cold, unforgiving object in the room. And at least a door couldn't sneer the way Jareth was looking at her now.

"Jareth," she breathed, "and that's all you are." She took a deep breath and continued then, looking him in the eye continuously, " and I am not your plaything. And I am not a little girl anymore frightened by an imaginary king. I am a grown woman, and," she paused, sorting her words, lest her trip her in some technicality, "I want you to treat me like one."

To her surprise he actually smiled, in a way, though it was as chilly and barren as any earlier emotion. "I would like nothing more than to treat you like a woman, Sarah."

He released her from his grip then, and pulled the door handle open behind her.

"Goodbye." He ushered her out before continuing, "And Sarah, I believe my brother and his wife are expecting you for breakfast. Please don't be late."

Chapter 26 – Bagel, Anyone?

The rest of Sarah's morning was actually going quite well.

All things considered.

Yes, she was still being held against her will at the mercy of the Goblin King. Yes, she was still being forced to eat daily what looked like chicken but smelled like feet. Yes, she was still unsure as


	25. Bedfellows

Title: The Labyrinth: The Way Back

Author: Aviry Nolane

Email: 25 – Bedfellows

She turned left several times before she felt his presence looming nearby, the same way you can tell a person's aftershave or what type of perfume and old lady wears hours after they've left the supermarket. The feeling of Jareth invaded space, claimed it, left it's mark.

She hesitated before entering what she was sure must be his bedroom.

"It's like handing a loaded gun to a convict" She said to herself. "Maybe even worse."

The doorknob agreed with her wholeheartedly and was just broaching on the subject of minding one's own business when it realized she couldn't hear it.

Sulking, it went back to it's work.

'Pity I wasn't locked' It thought to itself.

'Don't I want answers?' She questioned silently, 'Well, of course I do… but, do I want to go in?'

Nevermind that she had absolutely no idea what to do when she entered, plans had sort of become a passing fancy lately.

As she reasoned the pros and cons of the situation she noticed the detailing on the door she stood before. 'Yes, it must be his room,' she quipped, 'so like him. It screams look at me and I'm not even inside yet. Figures.'

The door was composed of what looked to Sarah like pure gold and silver, and covered in what she took to be the language of the fae people, though she couldn't read a word of it. There was a picture as well, of a large hawk-like bird with ruby eyes flying into a golden sun.

Sarah took a deep breath.

As if any breath could be deep enough to prepare her for what she saw inside.

The door swung open to reveal… well, Jareth.

It was Jareth all right. Naked.

And not alone.

He was in the very comfortable, very sweaty company of what looked to be a very leggy red headed friend.

'They're… Oh my God.' Sarah choked back a scream as the soundtrack began.

'Why can't I move?' She roared inside, 'Move legs, move!'

But there was no hope for Sarah, who could not help but remain motionless and agape at the scene before her. Fortunately, it seemed the next move was not hers at all.

"Who is there?" piped the red-headed harlot, "is someone there?"

Sarah's blood ran cold in her veins, though her legs would still not respond to brain signals.

The girl sat up from her position on the – 'Oh please don't think about it' – form still on the bed, and turned to face Sarah in all her emotional nudity.

'Which,' Sarah noted, 'does nothing to rival hers.'

"I-I-I'm so sorry," she managed to stammer, backing out into the corridor again.

The girl just smiled an waved, "No problem, honey," was the only reply Sarah received as she felt the door click back into place.

And with that she ran, not knowing when or where she turned or how far she had gone before she heard the scurrying of goblins in the hallway before her. She ducked inside the first room she saw and slumped to the ground, holding her head in her hands so that her hair became a protective halo around her.

'I can't believe it' she thought to herself, breathing deeply to stop herself from screaming or crying, she was still unsure which.

And then, something inside of her broke down until she knew exactly how she felt. She was… well, she was hurt.

Hurt?

"I just--" she stammered to no one, "how could he?"

"How could he what, love?"

Sarah stopped breathing. Again. If she kept this up she was in a fair way to develop heart problems.

'This is impossible,' Sarah reminded herself, 'to end up in here again? Oh, no. no. no. no.'

She looked up.

And was greeted by yet another surprise.

"Sarah, close your mouth please, it's impolite to stare."

The still dripping form of the Goblin King leaned casually against a large wooden bedpost, clad only in a black silken robe that Sarah noted left very little to the imagination when he moved as he was moving now, swaying back and forth, one hand on his chin as if to scold her.

He did not look happy.

She stood, it was easier to remain free of distraction from a higher vantage point, or so she thought.

"But you, but – well, weren't you just-" Sarah was at a loss for words yet again, though it seemed the King of the Underground never was.

"Showering?" He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow in her direction, "Why yes, Sarah. I was. Thank you for noticing. Now,"

He took a step forward. If she had seen anything but cold seething hatred in him last night, it was all a dim memory now. It seemed the Goblin King was back.

He took another step closer, now a scarce arm's length away from a still very confused Sarah.

"Can we take care of whatever business is troubling you so I can get on with my morning?" The mask was back, and the glare only seemed to be getting worse.

'How' Sarah wondered, losing track for a moment, 'does his hair stay like that?'

She shook her head back to the situation, "but I saw you," she stated, dumbfounded.

He laughed at this. "Yes, nearly."

"No, I don't mean-"

He took another step.

'Oh, no.' Sarah thought to herself, 'This is getting bad.'

"Sarah," he spat, "if you have anything of importance to say please say it now or get out. I don't have all day to romp around undressed with you."

He threw his hands in the air as he heard his own words, and Sarah was surprised to see that they were still encased in his ageless leather gloves.

She was thinking through the implications of his nightly fashion accessories when she realized he was still staring at her, looking bored, hands on his hips, waiting to speak as always.

"Round, pet."

"I'm sorry, what?" she gaped.

"Go and stay gone, or stay and turn round."

She turned, not knowing what else to do in such a situation and could not help laughing to herself as she did so.

'What are we now, Goblin King?" She mocked inwardly, 'shy?'

"Not in the least, pet. Turn around if you like." He laughed above her blushing, "If you can trust yourself with me, that is."

She was mortified when she heard the robe fall to the floor, but was altogether determined not to let it show.

"That's the problem with you, Goblin Kings," she snipped back, "I find it difficult to trust you with anyone."

Her only response was a chuckle from an area of the room which seemed way too close for comfort.

"You know, Jareth," she began.

"Oh, I'm Jareth again, am I?"

She felt his hands close in over her shoulders. She hoped above all things that he was wearing clothes behind her. Even what he thought of as clothing would suffice at this point.

"I suppose so, yes," she answered calmly.

He slid his hands slowly down her arms then, and when they reached her waist his grip grew more firm.

"Really, Pet, you're so hard to keep track of these days. One day I'm evil, the next I'm – What am I the next day, Sarah? Enlighten me."

With that he spun her around to face him so quickly that she felt lightheaded. The door clicked firmly behind her as he shoved her up against it's cold, unforgiving form.

She sighed, relieved when she found Jareth was back in his tunic shirt and pants, though her relief didn't last long when she looked back up to face her Goblin King.

The door was not the only cold, unforgiving object in the room. And at least a door couldn't sneer the way Jareth was looking at her now.

"Jareth," she breathed, "and that's all you are." She took a deep breath and continued then, looking him in the eye continuously, " and I am not your plaything. And I am not a little girl anymore frightened by an imaginary king. I am a grown woman, and," she paused, sorting her words, lest her trip her in some technicality, "I want you to treat me like one."

To her surprise he actually smiled, in a way, though it was as chilly and barren as any earlier emotion. "I would like nothing more than to treat you like a woman, Sarah."

He released her from his grip then, and pulled the door handle open behind her.

"Goodbye." He ushered her out before continuing, "And Sarah, I believe my brother and his wife are expecting you for breakfast. Please don't be late."


End file.
